Secret Keeper
by Sophocles
Summary: [AU; undergoing revision] They thought they would be safe. They thought they would be hidden. They thought they would never be betrayed. They thought wrong - Sirius Black remained the Potters' Secret-Keeper, and his world fell apart...
1. Chapter One: October 24, 1981

**SECRET KEEPER **

CHAPTER ONE

*

_            "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."_

*

_October 24, 1981_

            "Voldemort? After you? Why?" Sirius' voice sounded unnaturally sharp as he gazed across the table at his best friend. "Why would he be after you?"

            Sirius, James, Lily, and baby Harry were all sitting around the kitchen table at the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow. Sirius Black, the only one present who was not a resident at the house, sat across from the others, his tall, lean frame resting awkwardly in a stiff wooden chair, his legs sprawled out in front of him. James and Lily Potter sat on the other side of the table, with Harry playing contently in his mother's lap. The atmosphere in the room was tense, stiff, as Sirius' question lingered unanswered in the air.

            James sighed. "Some prophecy, I think. Something about someone having the power to defeat the Dark Lord being born as July dies... at least that's what Dumbledore told us." 

            "What?" asked Sirius incredulously. "Voldemort thinks that _Harry_ is going to bring his downfall? As in one-year-old Harry who is sitting here sucking his thumb?!"

            James nodded tersely, his hazel eyes meeting Sirius' blue-gray ones.

            "So? What are you two going to do? It'll be quite hard to hide from him, especially with Harry with you." Sirius glanced anxiously at his young godson, who was still resting serenely in Lily's lap, unaware of the tense conversation between the three adults in the room.

            This time, Lily replied. "Dumbledore says it's best if we use the Fidelius Charm. Ever hear of it, Sirius?"

            Sirius seemed to ponder his answer as he leaned further back into his chair. "Hmm... vaguely, I think. I remember something about concealing a secret inside a soul, something like that." He peered at Lily and James, his eyes wide with concern and nose scrunched in anxiety. "How is that going to help you?"

            "Dumbledore wants us to go into hiding," Lily explained, looking as if she were willing the calm expression onto her face. "He suggested that we use the Fidelius Charm in order to prevent Voldemort from finding us. If we choose a Secret-Keeper, and conceal the secret of our location inside him, then Voldemort will never be able to find us—"

            "Wait! How is that going to work?" Sirius looked slightly lost, though his sharp eyes looked intensely calculating. James didn't blame him at all.

            "We'll use the charm to conceal our location, specifically this house. No one except us, and whomever the Secret-Keeper tells, will be able to see the house or sense its presence—that way, we'll be safe here."

            "And there's no way Voldemort will be able to find you?" asked Sirius, the apprehension apparent in the uneasy tautness of his voice and the rigidity of his normally relaxed features.

            "The only way _anyone_ will find us is if the Secret-Keeper tells him personally or writes it in a note—which is why it needs to be someone we trust," James said firmly.

            "I'll do it then!" Sirius volunteered automatically, as if that settled the matter.

            James and Lily glanced at each other. 

            "Sirius, we were advised specifically _not_ to choose you," Lily said tersely, the clipped tone of her words suggesting that she would have liked to say as little as possible on the subject.

            "And why is that?" Sirius countered sharply. "You know I'd never—"

            "It's not that," James amended quickly before any offense could be taken at the remarks exchanged. "It's just that, well, you're too _obvious_, you know? If word gets out that we used the Fidelius Charm, the _first_ person they'll come looking for is _you_, and—"

            "And what makes you think I'd tell them if they found me?" Sirius' eyes had begun to narrow dangerously—James did not miss the ominous flashing of the piercing blue-gray irises. 

            "Will you let me finish?" James said hotly. "The point is, making you Secret-Keeper will put _your_ life in danger, and if Voldemort develops a certain fondness for Veritaserum, well, there's not much you can do."

            "Well, what other alternatives are there?" Sirius asked levelly, sounding as if he were forcibly smoothing his voice into a flat, deceptively even consistency.

            "Dumbledore offered to do it for us," explained Lily, "but I don't like that idea much myself. I wouldn't like for us to be a burden to him, we all know how busy he is."

            "Yes, yes," Sirius agreed. He closed his eyes pensively, as if the light in the room were disruptive to his thought processes. A few seconds later, and the black-lashed lids flew open again. "I know! You can perform the Fidelius Charm with _Peter_ as your Secret-Keeper! It's perfect! Then Voldemort will try to find _me_, you see, he would never guess that it was Peter, and even if he does use Veritaserum, he won't be able to get anything useful out of me!"

            Logic fought instinct at a subconscious level in James' mind, and won. He was about to voice his agreement on the subject, when—

            "Sirius, I don't think that's a good idea," Lily insisted darkly. "Dumbledore's sure that someone close to us is being a spy. We have absolutely no idea who it is, we can't trust _anyone_, except probably you." 

            "You mean to say you think _Peter's_ a Death Eater?" James yelped incredulously, his hand flying intuitively to his hair again. "That's ridiculous!"

            "Well, it's certainly got to be somebody, and Lily's right, we can't take chances," Sirius cautioned the couple, shifting his weight and propping his elbows onto the table before him. "I dunno about Peter though... I thought, perhaps... I noticed... Remus..." He looked uneasy, as if the statement had stiffened and died in his chest.

            A frown creased the edges of Lily's face in a look that was all too familiar to her husband. "I really don't think—" 

            But James interrupted her.  "We are not here to argue over who is and isn't a Death Eater," he reminded them, trying to iron out the tenser creases of conversation. "The question now is, what do we do?"

            "I don't really see many options for you two," said Sirius, chewing his lower lip contemplatively, "except for letting me be your Secret-Keeper. I _know_, I _know_," he added hastily, noticing the scrunch of disapproval on Lily's face, "but there doesn't seem to be any other way out, is there? No one to trust nowadays."

            James turned the notion over in his head. Sirius _was_ right, there was no other way, but he couldn't bring himself to willingly put someone in this much danger, especially his best friend of nearly ten years. Lily seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Husband and wife exchanged glances, both looking apprehensive. Was this really a good idea?

            The internal fear and reluctance seemed to be congregating in the back of James' throat as he opened and closed his mouth, trying to draw the appropriate words out. He ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I don't want you to do this for us, Padfoot, not because we don't trust you, but because it wouldn't be fair to you if you got killed just because Voldemort wants _us_ to die," he said darkly, a kind of uncomfortable prickly heat tingling on the back of his neck and spine. He thought he felt the contents of his stomach shift.

            "But that's exactly the point." The fixed coolness in Sirius' usually light-hearted voice was unsettling, his forthcoming gaze burning into James intensely, eyes never leaving the other man's face. "That is _exactly_ the point of having a Secret-Keeper, James. I am willing to do this for you—I _can_ do this for you."

            "You are _not_ going to sacrifice yourself for me, Sirius! You can't give up your _life_, I'm not worth that, I—"

            "You're not worth that? What about Lily? What about Harry? Don't you think _they're_ worth it? Don't you think _they_ deserve to have a chance to live, too, James? Doesn't your son deserve to grow up with his mother _and_ his father?" Sirius' pale face was flushed with the passion of his words, his high cheekbones looking more prominent than ever, giving the black-haired man an acutely disheveled look that James imagined would be quite frightening to those who did not know him well.

            Lily and James exchanged another worried glance. The air around their heads hung heavy with taut fear, fear that none of the three wanted to acknowledge, but was easily apparent in each word that was nervously spoken.

            "You are aware of the implications of this, aren't you, Sirius?" Lily asked, her voice dragging slowly. "You would basically be ruining all chances at a social life, you'd have to go into hiding, cut off contact with almost everyone, you wouldn't be able to go out in public at all—"

            "I am perfectly aware of the implications, Lily," Sirius breathed steadily, sitting up straighter in his chair and sweeping away the black bangs that were covering his blue eyes. "And as for going out—weren't you the one who told me that I'm a public health hazard?"

            James saw the familiar tugging at the corner of his wife's mouth that happened whenever she tried not to smile but just couldn't resist. "Since when have you listened to anything I say, Sirius?" she asked wryly.

            "I've always listened to everything you say—I just never acted upon it." Sirius gave a rakish grin, his blue-gray eyes twinkling with an air of levity. Then, the cheerful expression melting off his face, he turned to face James again. 

            "Well, Prongs? What do you say?" Sirius' voice was unfaltering, but James thought he could discern a slight waver in the depths of the other man's eyes.

            He hesitated for a moment, drawing in a sharp breath to buy himself a few seconds before responding. "Okay, mate, seeing as there's really no other way to go… We'll inform Dumbledore of our decision later today." As he spoke, he squeezed his wife's hand as if the contact would somehow add a layer of reassurance behind his words.

            Sirius smiled back, but the coldness of his ashen face and the lines etched around worried blue eyes told James that his friend's visage was really much more of a grimace. "Yeah, no problem then. We'll perform the charm tomorrow, once Dumbledore agrees."

            Lily pursed her lips, the skin around her mouth drawing in. "I can't see him being too happy about this, but he—he'll understand." 

            Sirius and James nodded, facing each other from across the table but not making direct eye contact.

            "And Sirius?" Lily's emerald green eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her pale freckled face glowed with emotion.

            "Yes, Lily?" This was really less of a question and more of an invitation to speak freely without regards to the social barriers that so stringently ruled the lives of many.

            "Thank you. Thank you so much for agreeing to do this for us. Thank you so much—"

            "No need, Lily, it's okay," Sirius interjected smoothly. "Anything for the two of you."

            Lily still looked teary-eyed. James hesitated for a moment, and then, abandoning all pretenses of superficial etiquette, walked over to where his best friend was standing and pulled the other man into a bear hug.

            "Thanks, Sirius," he whispered fiercely. "Thanks for everything..."

            Albus Dumbledore glanced down his half-moon spectacles at the young man sitting in the chair in front of his desk. The man was young, looking to be about in his late teens or early twenties, and was tall and lean, with slightly tanned skin and an athletic built that only came from years of strenuous physical activity. His hair was jet-black and messy, sticking up in the back as if to make a contrary statement, and his eyes were hazel, their gaze intense as they stared back at the Hogwarts headmaster.

            "James," Dumbledore said slowly, lowering his hands in front of him. "You are sure you want to go through with this?"

            James nodded firmly. "We've already spoken to Sirius, and all of us feel that he's the best person for the job."

            Dumbledore surveyed James for a few seconds before speaking. The old man's bright blue eyes, usually shining with mirth and amusement, were serious now. "James," he repeated gently. "I know that Sirius is your best friend and that you trust him, but do you really think it's wise to let him be your Secret-Keeper? My offer to help you still stands; I'd feel a lot safer knowing I was your Secret-Keeper."

            "Lily and I can't do that to you, Professor," James said quietly. "We can't give you that burden—and besides, I would trust Sirius with my life—I _am_ trusting Sirius with my life. I know he would rather die than betray us; he said so himself."

            The older man sighed in resignation. "I _know_ you trust Sirius with your life, James. But you must bear in mind that he could be forced to tell that which he does not want to tell—if he is captured by Voldemort, he will not be treated kindly. He will most likely be tortured for information; he would be forced to reveal your whereabouts, and then they would kill him once they were done. And then Voldemort will come after you. Think about it, James."

            James deliberated this slowly, his features arranging into an expression of discomfort, and then fear, guilt, and then doubt? It was hard to tell. Finally, the younger man spoke, his voice carefully cleared of emotion.

            "Do we really have a choice, Professor? It seems to me that no matter how we look at it, there is always the risk of our Secret-Keeper being tortured for information—and there's no one I trust more than Sirius to hold out under pressure, if they can even _find_ him." James fidgeted apprehensively, glancing at the headmaster in an unspoken request for approval.

            "The decision is yours, James." Dumbledore's voice was grave and quiet.

            A long silence followed this solemn statement. James Potter appeared to grow more and more uncomfortable in his wooden armchair. His hand was subconsciously running through the messy hair at the back of his head as he sucked on his lower lip, lost in pensive thought. Finally, he spoke, his voice nervous. "Sirius did have another idea..."

            "Oh?" Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows arched slightly. 

            "Yeah... Sirius said it might be better if we used _Peter_ as our Secret-Keeper but didn't tell anyone... that way, no one would suspect who our Secret-Keeper really was, and Sirius wouldn't be able to reveal any information even if he was captured by Voldemort. It would be a... a bluff, sort of."

            "That was Sirius' suggestion?" 

            James nodded, swallowing nervously. "Yes, but I didn't think it would be a good idea, and neither did Lily." He paused slightly. "What do you think about it, Professor Dumbledore?"

            Dumbledore looked thoughtfully pensive as he gave his answer. "I think you are right," the headmaster said slowly, looking at his formal pupil carefully. "Sirius' intentions are good and his ideas are clever... but right now, you are safest with the simplest, most reliable of solutions." 

            "I suppose so," James conceded. He was silent for a moment. "We'll just go with the original plan, then."

            "Sirius will be your Secret-Keeper?" The Hogwarts headmaster struggled to erase the expression of disapproval from his features.

            James nodded affirmatively. "I can't think of anyone whom I would rather have do this for us than him, Professor."

            "Very well, then," Professor Dumbledore said, his voice containing the faintest trace of a sigh. "You and Sirius should come to my office tomorrow at around three o'clock... I shall show you how to activate the Fidelius charm, and there are a few things I should like to discuss with Sirius was well..."

            "We'll be there," James said assuredly.

*

            _"I think I'd prefer it if you didn't give orders here, Snape. It's my house, you see."—Sirius Black_, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 518_


	2. Chapter Two: October 25, 1981

**Secret Keeper, Re-post Edition**

**Chapter Two**

_October 25, 1981_

            A young, tired-looking man with light brown hair and weary blue eyes sat at his desk facing the window through which the sunlight was pouring, shining brightly onto the blank parchment that lay in front of him. He tapped the end of his eagle-feather quill onto his desk in contemplation – what would he write? What _could_ he write that would mean anything to his friends, friends who had just received the news that they had been targeted by one of the most feared Dark wizards of all time?

            Remus Lupin wasn't sure what he was going to say to James and Lily. Nothing he could think of seemed appropriate.

            _"Hey, I heard that Voldemort wants to kill you... good luck!"_

            He felt like hitting himself on the head with something very, very hard.

            An aura of gloominess descended upon him as he sat facing the light of the rising sun and brooded upon his fears and insecurities. It seemed like only yesterday that life had been so – so easy. Of course, being a werewolf, life had never really flowed as easily for him as he would have liked, but generally he decided that his life was good. He had gone to school, had had friends for the first time – Peter, Sirius, and James, all of whom had befriended him readily and had accepted him for what he was. Seven years had gone by in a blink of an eye, the four of them had grown and learned and become, and one of them had even found love and a family. Remus smiled bitterly as he thought of poor Harry. The kid hadn't even turned two years old and his name was already on the hit list from which no one ever survived...

            It felt like only one day ago that everything was so simple, laid down in front of him like a roadmap, but now... he felt lost, didn't know what to think. One of his closest friends was being targeted by Lord Voldemort... he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. James was fairly well-known for his outspokenness against the Dark Arts, and Voldemort and the Death Eaters were killing more and more each day, and marking still others for destruction... and yet, none of it had seemed real, none of it had punctured the thin bubble that surrounded his reality until the Dark Lord had decided that he wanted to kill the Potters... and the blessed euphoria that Remus had previously referred to as his life had deflated like a punctured balloon. 

            Sighing in frustration, he slammed the quill onto the desk and held his head in his hands as he closed his eyes in resignation. He couldn't write. Not a letter. He couldn't.

            _I'd better pay a visit to Lily and James in person,_ he thought tiredly to himself.

            Two tall, black-haired men stood side by side in the headmaster's office, one for the second time in two days, the other for the first time in almost four years. The former, the slightly shorter of the two, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose while the other, a paler, blue-eyed man, shook his dark bangs out of his eyes as they waited for Professor Dumbledore to speak. 

            "James, Sirius." The Hogwarts headmaster acknowledged them with a brief nod.

            "Professor Dumbledore," James Potter said respectfully as Sirius Black nodded silently in response.

            A small sigh escaped the older man as he looked upon his two former pupils. "Sirius," he said, turning to the taller man, "I suppose James has told you why you are here?"

            Unreadable blue-gray eyes flew up to meet the professor's bright blue ones. 

             "Yes, sir," Sirius said quietly. "James told me about the... circumstances."

            "Very well then. Please, sit down, both of you, we have much to discuss," Dumbledore said, waving a hand towards two squashy armchairs which were sitting conveniently side by side. James and Sirius sat, though both looked slightly awkward and stiff.

            "Now, James, you've told Sirius about the Fidelius Charm? And how it works?"

            "Yes, sir."

            There was a slight pause that lingered in the air between the three men. Sirius looked down at his hands, which were collapsed together between his knees.

            Dumbledore allowed the silence to continue for a few more moments. Then-

            "Have either of you got any questions?"

            Sirius looked up slowly, an unfathomable expression drawing itself across his handsome features. "Yes, this – this Secret-Keeper. What would happen if he – or I should say _me_ – told someone the – the secret?"

            Dumbledore bowed his head, looking extremely grave. "Should you happen to divulge this secret, Sirius, whomever you have chosen to share the knowledge it would have full access to it and would be able to use it to their full advantage – in this case being James and Lily's location."

            The younger man sat back for a moment, drumming his fingers on the edge of the chair contemplatively. "But what if," Sirius began slowly, "I told someone the secret, someone whom we _wanted_ to know it, and _that_ person went and told Voldemort? What would happen then?"

            "Nothing. Voldemort may be able to uncover the Potters' exact location, but without the knowledge coming directly from _your_ mouth, or your writing, he will never be able to find Godric's Hollow," Dumbledore said quietly, his blue eyes focusing on the two young men sitting in front of him. "Is there anything else you need to know?"

            "I've got a question," James announced suddenly. "When we – Lily, Harry, and I – use this Fidelius Charm, what would happen if we needed to talk to someone else? Other than Sirius, I mean."

            "If Sirius chose to give the person in question the knowledge of your whereabouts, there would be nothing preventing you from having a normal conversation with them, as long as you are all within the confines of the protection of the Fidelius Charm," Dumbledore said, peering at James over his half-moon spectacles. "When we activate the charm, we will be concealing your address, and therefore hiding the presence of your _house_, not your person. The house, along with anyone inside of the house, would be undetectable to anyone except the Secret-Keeper and those the Secret-Keeper has shared the information with."

            "I see." The black-haired man sat up straighter in his chair. "And if Lily or I were to go outside the house? What would happen then?"

            Dumbledore's blue-eyed gaze became slightly more piercing as he scrutinized the asker of the question. "That would not be wise, James," he said solemnly. "If you were to step outside of the house, you would be leaving the protection of the Fidelius Charm, and therefore endangering your life."

            "Oh," James said faintly, leaning back into the plushy confines of the chair again as he digested this news. "All right, then. So how do we activate this charm?"

            Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him on his mahogany desk. "I will explain it to you both. But first, Sirius, I have to ask you, are you sure about this?"

            "Yes," the other man replied firmly, propping his arms onto his thighs. "I'd do anything for James," he added, a tone of fierceness behind the quiet qualities of his voice.

            "That was not what I meant," the professor said quietly, glancing still more closely at Sirius. "I know you're perfectly willing – but can you do it, Sirius? Do you realize the responsibility that this entails, how important this is?"

            "Of course," Sirius replied, not making eye contact, his voice steady, emotionless, yet shaking slightly with hidden fear. "Of _course_ I know. I know that I'd have to go into hiding, I couldn't talk to anyone, I'd have to isolate myself, give up my life – I don't care!" There was a bite of indignation in his words. "I _can_ do this, Professor Dumbledore. I _do_ know what it means to be responsible, contrary to the opinions of my former schoolteachers."

            Dumbledore gave a small smile as he remembered the terror caused by the two best friends in their school days, and recalled with amusement the obvious elation of many of the Hogwarts teachers when the class of 1977 had graduated, and James Potter and Sirius Black had gone with it. "Of course, Sirius. I did not doubt your ability – I just had to ask, you see." The younger man nodded in response to this statement. 

            The Hogwarts headmaster looked more wearied and tired than ever. "I'm going to show you how to activate the Fidelius Charm," he said slowly to the two men sitting in front of him. "But it won't be performed here – you will have to activate it at your house, James, with Sirius present as well."

            The two friends exchanged a quick glance between themselves before turning back to face their former headmaster.

            "Sirius, you will need to be the one who utters the incantation – the spell for the charm is _'abscondo fidelio'_," Dumbledore said, shifting slightly to look at Sirius. "It is critical you pronounce the incantation correctly; otherwise, the charm will be faulty, and may... fail to work... as consistently as it ought to."

            Sirius, throat taut with nervousness and anxiety, only nodded, unable to speak. Reaching up instinctively with one hand, he brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

            "After Sirius casts the beginning of the charm, you, James," – Dumbledore turned towards the other man – "will need to state the information to be concealed, in this case, your address. You must say this to Sirius as he holds his wand, or the wand used to cast the charm, and you yourself must be holding your wand as you say this."

            James fidgeted slightly. "Yes, Professor," he said, his hazel eyes flickering slightly.

            "Once this is done, the two of you – James and Sirius – must touch the tip of your wands together to complete and seal the charm. If all goes well, a bond should be formed, and there should be a golden glow where your wands make contact. Remember, there must be a certain level of trust for the bond to be properly formed – although I doubt that should be a problem with the two of you." Dumbledore hesitated slightly before continuing again. "Also keep in mind that the connection must be given enough time to properly conceal the secret within Sirius' soul – if you break the connection too soon, there is no guarantee that the information will be properly hidden."

            Again, both men nodded, their faces looking grim yet determined.

            "One more thing..." There was another slight hesitation from the old wizard. "It is probably a little late to be saying this, but I must warn the both of you that the activation of the Fidelius Charm is far from painless... it involves the physical transfer of knowledge from one person's mind into the very living soul of another... the process may be very agonizing, especially for the Sirius."

            James shot a concerned look at his friend, who blatantly ignored it.

            "That's fine," Sirius said bluntly, swiftly setting aside his regard for himself. "Is there anything else of importance, Professor?" 

            Dumbledore gazed upon the two friends quietly, the expression on his face kept carefully neutral. "No, I think not," he said softly, eyeing the two men with a fond regard.

            James gave his former professor a swift nod. "Thank you so much for your help, Professor Dumbledore," he said gratefully, standing up. Sirius followed his lead.

            "Thanks, Professor," he said, somewhat awkwardly as he, too, stood up, straightening his robes.

            "Of course." Dumbledore's voice was fatherly and reassuring. "I am always willing to help. I wish the two of you the best of luck."

            "Yeah, we'll certainly need it," Sirius said wryly, regaining some of his old sarcastic humor. James whacked him lightly on the upper arm.

            Dumbledore, too, gave a warm smile as he watched the playful exchange between the two friends. "You are more right than you know, Sirius," he said, chuckling. "Well, off with you two now! And James," he said, catching the messy-haired man in the eye. "Please send my warmest to Lily and Harry, and feel free to contact me if anything of importance arises. Use the Floo."

            "Of course, Professor Dumbledore, I will."

            And with that, the two friends stepped down the winding staircase of the headmaster's office and out through the stone gargoyle.

            A small, short man with wispy, colorless blond hair and watery blue eyes squirmed slightly as he quickly approached the towering figure in front of him and knelt down. Afraid to raise his eyes upwards, he instead stared at the ground to hide his fear and desperation.

            "Master."

            The Dark Lord looked down upon him, red eyes gleaming in annoyance. "Wormtail. How nice to see you again," he said lazily, his casually controlled voice containing a hint of subtly implied impatience.

            "O-of course, my Lord." More stuttering escaped from Peter's parched lips as he continued to kneel in front of Lord Voldemort.

            "Have you got any news for me regarding your friend James Potter?" The question was asked with an air of drawling indifference, and yet its back-tones impressed upon Peter the edginess of the Dark Lord's curiosity. He trembled slightly.

            "He – they... the Potters know," he managed to rasp out as he continued his staring contest with the ground in front of him. "They – they've spoken to Dumbledore." 

            The information tumbled awkwardly out of the bumbling Death Eater as he cowered in front of his master.

            "P-probably going to – to use the Fidelius Charm..." Peter Pettigrew's eyes darted nervously from side to side, looking everywhere except at his master's face.

            "The Fidelius Charm?" For the first time, Voldemort spoke with an alert sharpness. "You are sure of this, Wormtail?"

            "I – yes, my Lord," Peter replied nervously, his voice growing somewhat steadier as he breathed to calm himself.

            Voldemort let the silence linger as his red eyes bore relentlessly into the top of Peter's head. "I see. And... their Secret-Keeper?"

            Peter found his body shaking more and more violently; for some reason, it was getting harder for him to speak. "S-secret-Keeper?" Something in his jaw tightened. "I - probably – m-most likely it would be Sirius, they're b-best friends, they-"

            "Black?" Voldemort asked, a hint of amusement in his cruel voice as he interrupted the quivering mass of nerves in front of him. "Sirius Black?"

            There was a contemplative tone to Voldemort's words as he drew them out almost playfully, allowing them to dance dangerously in the air.

            "Regulus Black's blood-traitor brother... I should have guessed. His friendship with Potter is very well known... you consider yourself to be friends with him as well, Wormtail?" A question lingered in those terrible scarlet eyes.

            "Y-yes, Master."

            Voldemort gave a small nod, the dim light reflecting eerily off the pale glow of his skin as he twirled his unnaturally long, spindly fingers that put Peter in mind of spiders. 

            "I have a new task for you, Wormtail..."

            Sirius Black and James Potter walked towards the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry side by side, their footsteps a little less than synchronized as the two men strode through the castle they had once called home.

            "Sirius," James began tentatively, feeling slightly odd as he addressed his closest friend by his given name, rather than the old school nicknames they had always so affectionately used. "Are – are you sure you want to do this?"

            The other man's face grew closed as his intense blue eyes stared straight ahead of him, not flickering as he replied to his friend's sentiments. "That discussion is over, James," Sirius said with a tone of finality, also using his friend's given name to impress upon James the authority of his statement. "Of all the things in my life that I _am_ sure of, this is definitely one of them," he said shortly.

            "If you're sure then..." James' smooth and steady voice trailed off into the bustle of the school. "We'll perform the charm tomorrow?"

            "Of course – your house, say, at two o'clock?"

            James nodded, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Yeah, you can meet me there... we'll perform the charm and _all_ of us," – here he stressed the word 'all' – "will go into hiding and lie low for a while." He gave his friend a sideways glance to make his meaning clear.

            "Yes..." Sirius said musingly, his voice quiet. "I'll have to wrap up a bit of business first – tie up a few loose ends, so to speak. I suggest you do the same, Prongs."

            James thought about this for a moment, drumming his fingers on his upper arms pensively. "I suppose you're right," he conceded. "I'll probably go in to see Dumbledore again tomorrow, I'm thinking about leaving a few things with him..."

            Sirius smirked. "Your Chocolate Frog card collection of ten years, Prongs?" he asked, a mischievous twinkle reawakening in his blue-gray eyes. He shook his hair out from in front of his face.

            The shorter man pulled a face as he playfully punched his companion in the arm. "No, no, Padfoot..." he said musingly. "I was thinking more along the lines of... family heirlooms? I want to leave some of my things with Dumbledore – the rest of it'll I'll trust to Gringotts, I guess."

            "That's actually a good idea, Prongs," Sirius said, looking equally contemplative as well – a sight that was quite rare. "Send your stuff for safe-keeping... have you dealt with all the legal mish-mash?"

            James tilted his head to one side slightly. "Er – most of it, I think," he replied. "Just want to secure a few things – some old Gringotts stuff, my records, my will – but hopefully I won't be needing _that_," he added, smirking.

            "I should hope not." Sirius gave an exaggerated shudder. "Then _I'd_ have to take care of Harry – I'd never get my beauty sleep!"

            "Oh no!" James exclaimed in mock horror. "A beauty sleep-less Padfoot, unleashed onto the world at large – what a catastrophe!" He snorted.

            Sirius gave a wry smile and laughed loudly. "Well of course, Prongs, you _do_ know that I am a _naturally_ good-looking man – I was _born_ with the charm and good looks." He struck a comical pose. "The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome."

            "The beginning of the decline of Western civilization," James offered, his hand once again flying to his jet-black hair.

            Sirius shot his friend a playful death-glare. "The best-looking thing ever to grace Hogwarts with his presence."

            "The one whose face gives kids nightmares."

            The tall blue-eyed man gave a great sniff of indignation. "You're one to talk. Just looking at your _hair_ is enough to give any grown woman nightmares for _months_ on end." He snickered. "No wonder you didn't get more dates in school, Prongs – or was that because were you too busy fawning over a certain red-haired green-eyed young lady?"

            "I was, wasn't I?" James said thoughtfully, his face reminiscent as he stared vaguely off into space. 

            Sirius gave his friend a sideways glance, noting with amusement the absentminded the expression that had crossed James' featured.

            "Yeah, Prongs, you sure were," he said quietly.

 *

**Author's Note**

            Hehe... I've got this fic (the original version) posted up on Fiction Alley (don't read it, it sucks!), and recently, I got a review _complimenting_ my grammar, which I found extremely odd because one of my worst faults as a writer is my inability to proofread and find my mistakes until my work is actually posted... LOL – would you believe that English is my second language? Wow... someone _complimenting_ my grammar and spelling... holy cow...

            Anyways... um, yeah, thanks to the reviewers, again, whose positive words keep me going... this is turning out a lot more nicely than I thought it would, I'm thinking of devoting most of my time to this story and putting "Crying Myself to Sleep" behind it a little... can't do too much at once, got to keep up with my hectic high school schedule... urgh, transition from eighth-grader to freshman is _not_ good, thank GOD that only happens once in a lifetime... so... would appreciate feedback on this chapter... and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF _GOD_ I NEED SOMEONE TO BETA CHAPTER SIX OF CMtS! HELP! Okay, sorry, that was a little intense, but just check it out!

            Oh yeah... for those of you who are recommending that I read Robin's "Promises Unbroken"... I am a HUGE Sirius fan... I have too much spare time... I finished OotP in about four hours... DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I HAVEN'T ALREADY READ AND RE-READ THE WHOLE THING? _Please._ I have it saved on my desktop and _printed_. =)

*

            _"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broke the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about and stretch your legs, get into a few fights... I've been stuck inside for a month." – Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 82_


	3. Chapter Three: October 26, 1981

**Secret-Keeper, Re-post Edition**

**Chapter Three**

_October 26, 1981_

For the third time in less than a week, James Potter stood deep in thought in the headmaster's office, almost as if he were in a daze. He still couldn't believe how much danger he was in, how much danger _they_ were in, how much danger they were putting Sirius in. 

_Why? Why would anyone want to kill a_ baby, _for God's sake,_ James thought to himself. It was almost ridiculous. Little Harry Potter, barely a year old, next target of one of the most feared wizards ever to walk the earth. 

Yesterday, he had gone home, ruffled through all his paperwork and, as Sirius put it, sorted out his 'legal mishmash.' All of his and Lily's finances were in Gringotts; then James had packed together a few choice items – mostly prized possessions of his and Lily's – and had given them to Professor Dumbledore for safekeeping. Although James had already left school, the old Hogwarts headmaster still kept in close contact with him, and was the person that he trusted most to safeguard his most valued belongings. _Well, other than Sirius, that is,_ James thought to himself, but under the circumstance, that wasn't really an appropriate choice. Sirius' life was possibly in more danger than his now after the activation of the Fidelius Charm.

He sighed. No sense in brooding about it, not at Hogwart's anyways. He set the box of items on the headmaster's desk.

"Thank you for all your help, Professor Dumbledore," James said gravely to the man sitting in a desk across the room from him. "We appreciate it. A lot."

"Yes, well, I wish you three the best of luck," Dumbledore said, peering at James over his half-moon spectacles. "You'll certainly need it."

"Yeah, er, thanks," James mumbled somewhat awkwardly. "I should get going now, Lily might be worried..."

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore, "and I'll contact you by Floo if something new comes up."

James nodded as he turned his back on the Headmaster and reached for a small flowerpot sitting on the mantle over the fireplace. He scooped a small handful of Floo Powder out of it and threw it into the fire, which promptly turned bright green. 

"Godric's Hollow," he called out clearly. "Bye, Professor," he added over his shoulder as he stepped into the flames. The heat engulfed him; it felt uncomfortable, but did not hurt. He squinted his eyes closed, and when he opened them again, he was back home, standing in his own fireplace at Godric's Hollow. Brushing soot from his robes, he stepped out of the fireplace, calling "Lily! Harry!"

What he saw next made his heart stop and his eyes widen in shock.

There, sprawled on his own living room couch, was a stranger, a thin man with short black hair that was gelled up in odd spikes. He was wearing dark sunglasses and baggy black pants, obviously a Muggle judging by how he was dressed. And leaning over him, apparently unbuttoning his shirt, was Lily. 

"Wha – what the hell?" James could feel the rage pulsing through his veins.

"Oh, hello James," said Lily absentmindedly.

"Hello? _Hello?!_ Would either of you mind explaining to me exactly what is going on here? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?! And who are YOU? What are you doing in my house?" he yelled furiously, staring at the Muggle.

Lily and the spiky-haired Muggle looked at each other with puzzled expressions on their faces. James was just about to start yelling again, when suddenly, much to his bewilderment, the two of them burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.

"What is so funny, may I ask?" James snapped dangerously. "And what exactly are you doing here?" He looked at the man with narrowed eyes, and then back at his wife, waiting – _hoping_ – for a suitable explanation.

Lily was still rolling from laughter, but the man seemed to have recovered slightly. "Well," he said in a horribly bad imitation of a deep voice, "your darling wife and I-"

"Oh shut up!" interrupted Lily, still gasping from laughter. She sat up and kicked the man on the shins, and then, leaning over, quickly snatched the sunglasses off the man's head.

James' jaw dropped open. _Oh my effing God._ He stared at the man's face for about five seconds, almost not believing what he saw, before he too let out a snort of uncontrollable laughter.

"What-" he choked, "the – hell are you doing – here – dressed in that? And your hair! Oh my God, you _spiked_ it." 

Sirius Black's eyes twinkled as he replied, "Yes, I did good job, didn't I? Didn't even recognize me!"

Lily had recovered from her hysterical laughter by now, and was now looking at James with a somewhat injured expression on her face. "What did YOU think we were doing, James?" she asked, looking somewhat hurt. "I can't _believe_ you thought-"

"Ah, Lily, don't blame him," Sirius chortled, "after all, he knows how _irresistibly_ sexy I am, right Prongs? Guess that beauty sleep's been working after all."

"You shut up!" Lily hissed. "Honestly, you're just as bad, what was all that nonsense? '_Your darling wife and I_' – what was _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that you just ruined a perfectly good joke, Lily! He actually believed that you – me – you know?" Sirius was now laughing so hard that he was in danger of choking on his spit. 

"Humph," Lily said, decking Sirius on the back of the head. "And _you_," she said, turning menacingly to her husband, "should have known better, too. We did the charm, remember? It couldn't have been anyone _but_ Sirius, no one else would have even been able to find the house!" 

"Sorry, sorry," James said sheepishly, putting his hands in the pockets of his robes. He fidgeted slightly.

"So, what were you guys doing anyways?"

"Lily was disguising me as a Muggle," Sirius explained. His voice was calm, but his blue-gray eyes were still dancing with laughter. "And if I were you, I wouldn't talk about these clothes so condescendingly, Prongs, you know that this," – he plucked at the half-buttoned shirt he was wearing – "is actually one of yours?"

James rolled his eyes. "Keep going, why was my wife trying to give you a Muggle makeover?"

Sirius sighed. When he spoke again, he seemed quite serious this time. "Well, I was thinking about what you said, about how Voldemort would look for me first, how if I was given Veritaserum, your secret wouldn't be safe anymore." He paused here. "So I've decided to stay in a Muggle neighborhood for a while. Stay low-profile, you know?"

James nodded, understanding and appreciating his friend's good logic and reasoning.

"The problem is, in order to live in a Muggle neighborhood, I sort of have to look like a Muggle."

"Oh, I see," James said, understanding dawning upon him. "That's why you had to talk to Lily."

Sirius nodded back. "Yeah, she was helping me put together a disguise. Being Muggle-born and all, I thought she would know. She was just showing me how to button that cute shirt of yours when _you_ walked in," Sirius added devilishly. "Man, you should've seen yourself! You had steam coming out of your ears."

James felt slightly guilty for the accusations he had inadvertently made. "I thought you were a Muggle! How was I supposed to know?"

"That's pathetic," Lily said simply. "Can't even recognize your own best friend…" 

"Yeah, well I wasn't exactly expecting to see a Muggle sitting in my sitting room sprawled on a sofa with my wife, now was I?"

"Oh!" Lily groaned dramatically, flinging her hands to her heart in a gesture of mock hurt. "How could you _think_ such things, James Potter? How could you accuse me-"

"Yes, well, I'm sorry, alright?" James flung himself onto the sofa between Sirius and Lily. "Anyways, Padfoot, where are you planning on staying?"

"Well, one of my friends has an aunt who's a Muggle," Sirius explained. "She's got this spare house, never managed to sell it, that she said I could stay in. Number six, Chester Lane. That's the address."

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" James asked his friend. He was worried. "You could always stay here with me and-"

"No, I couldn't," Sirius interrupted. "I'd just be an inconvenience. You two and Harry need to spend some quality family time together anyways. My stuff's already packed, it's in a trunk in the hall. As soon as we have lunch, I'll leave. I'll still visit you guys though." The fingers of his right hand subconsciously danced on his spiked hair, still unaccustomed to the gelled hairstyle.

"Okay," James nodded solemnly. "I assume Dumbledore knows about this?"

"Nah, I was planning on telling him right after I left your house."

"Right." James shifted on the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"Speaking of doing things, what were _you_ doing before you got here? Where were you?" Sirius asked, fiddling with the collar of the still-unbuttoned shirt.

James shrugged one shoulder slightly. "Doing as you suggested, Padfoot," he said. "Everything's secure in Gringotts now, except some stuff I left with Dumbledore. I was at Hogwarts with him before I came here."

Sirius smirked. "Wow, Prongs. Three times this week – you're breaking all the old records we'd set in school and you're not even a student anymore!"

For the second time that day, Lily decked him on the back of the head. 

"Headmaster."

Albus Dumbledore looked up at the thin sallow-skinned man standing in front of his desk. _My, I'm seeing so many former Hogwarts pupils lately,_ he thought to himself._ A nice re-union, I suppose._ He chuckled quietly.

"Severus," he said cordially, "take a seat."

Stiffly, Severus Snape sat down in the squashy armchair that Sirius Black had occupied the day before. The pale black-haired man stared at the Hogwarts headmaster out of cold black eyes before speaking.

"The Dark Lord knows that the Potters are using the Fidelius Charm."

Sighing slightly and losing his cheerful demeanor, Dumbledore set his half-moon spectacles softly down onto his desk and looked at his former pupil. 

"I see," Dumbledore said softly. "It was only to be expected..."

Snape continued with his report. "I'm not sure how he came across the information. He could have just guessed... or someone told him." The younger man scowled. "Perhaps Black..."

Dumbledore frowned, his forehead creasing with anxiety. "If our traitor is indeed Sirius Black, there is not much we can do... they've already activated the charm."

The expression on Snape's face was sour. "Stupid fools," he muttered under his breath. He laced his long, pale fingers together.

The unhappy grimace had still not erased itself from the headmaster's face. "Do you really think it is Sirius who is passing information to Voldemort?" the old man asked slowly.

It was Snape's turn to frown. "Who else would it be?" he asked curtly. "Someone has been keeping the Dark Lord very closely informed of the Potters' movements – no one but Black could have given him such thorough information. It all fits perfectly, Headmaster."

"So, you are positive that it is Sirius?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Snape admitted reluctantly, sounding as if this statement were excruciatingly painful. "The Dark Lord has not informed us on the details of his plans to reach the Potters; he only said that he was sending someone to handle the situation, or something along those lines."

"Hmm." Dumbledore looked pensive. "The fact that Voldemort has asked someone else to deal with the 'situation', as you put it, shows that he does not yet know where the Potters are... he would not dare risk sending one of his Death Eaters on what he considers to be such an important mission. If he could find James and Lily, he would undoubtedly go to kill them himself."

"Are you saying that you think I'm wrong about Black?"

"What I am saying, Severus," the headmaster continued, looking down at the black-haired man, "is that at this stage, it would not do to jump to conclusions. If Sirius had any intention of betraying Lily and James to Lord Voldemort, he would most likely have done so by now. However, he may be reluctant, due to a guilty conscience, or perhaps the hesitation is to purposely throw us off his track."

"And what does Potter think of this?" Snape asked, his upper lip curling in disdain.

Dumbledore's blue eyes were uncharacteristically grave as he surveyed Snape. "Nothing," he said simply. "James refuses to consider the possibility that it is Sirius who has turned against our cause. I have tried to subtly... hint at the possibility, you might say, but nothing will shake his faith in his friend." The old man sighed heavily. "James' judgment is usually right – we can only hope that it is so now."

Lunch at the Potters' passed quickly and quietly. None of the adults had much to say. All three were looking worried and grim. James in particular was nervous, especially about Sirius' safety. Would he really be all right, staying in a Muggle neighborhood? Knowing his best friend's fondness for mischief, James wouldn't put it past Sirius to wreak some havoc around town, which was the _last_ thing that Sirius needed to do. It would draw unnecessary attention towards him. 

Lily had cleared the last of the dishes of the table, and with a flick of her wand, the sponge automatically began scrubbing the dishes with soap on its own.

There was an awkward silence. 

"Well, I supposed I'd better be going," Sirius said finally. "And there's no reason to look so depressed, I'll be back, you know?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "That's hardly a reason to be happy," she said jokingly.

"Very true, Lily, very true," Sirius agreed. He grabbed his trunk and began pulling it towards the door. He was nearly there before he turned around.

"Oh yeah," he said, sounding as if he had just remembered something. From a side table, he grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment. His hand shaking slightly, he wrote _'The Potters are at Godric's Hollow'_. Finishing the last word with a flourish, he handed the parchment to James, who gave him a questioning look.

"In case someone needs to find you," Sirius explained, seeing his friend's confused expression. "Remus or Peter... or someone. You can give the paper to Dumbledore to show them... that way there won't be the risk of someone discovering where I am."

Lily nodded. "That's a good idea, actually. We'll send it over to Hogwarts later."

"Sure..." Sirius couldn't find anything else to say. He stood awkwardly in the Potter's doorway.

"Well..." he finally mumbled, his voice slightly hoarse. "I – I'll see you later then, shall I?"

Lily and James both nodded solemnly. Sirius thrust open the Potter's front door and dragged his trunk outside. Immediately, his face was hit with a gust of cold wind. He put the sunglasses on. Slowly, he began trudging outside, taking slow heavy steps and dragging the trunk along with him. He was just about to close the door behind him, when-

"Bye, Sirius."

Sirius grinned at the sad expression on Lily and James Potter's faces before shutting the door behind him. He had already gone down the front steps when he heard a shrill voice calling his name from the house he just left.

"Sirius Black! Get back here and button that shirt properly!" Lily's voice rang out.

Chuckling to himself, Sirius doubled back and re-entered the Potters' house, allowing Lily to properly button his shirt. Before leaving again, he grinned down at Harry.

"Bye Harry," he said, looking down at the baby.

Harry stared back up at Sirius. "Bye Pafoo."

Smiling to himself, Sirius walked down the Potter's front steps yet again. Harry had said his name. Pafoo. Padfoot.

"I trust you have news for me, Wormtail?"

Peter Pettigrew nervously fiddled with the sleeves of his black Death Eater robes. "Y-yes, Master," he said nervously, a bead of sweat forming along his temple.

"And?" Voldemort asked, a touch of impatience streaking through his cold voice as he stared condescendingly down at the man kneeling before him.

"Th-the Potters – they – they – they used Sirius as their Secret-Keeper, they – he..."

The red-eyed man looked amused. "So, it's definitely Black then. Interesting... continue, Wormtail."

Peter's throat felt oddly dry as he continued to speak. "They – they've already activated the Fidelius Charm, so I haven't b-been able to keep an eye on them," he stuttered awkwardly.

"I see," Voldemort said smoothly, his voice seeming devoid of emotion. "And Black?" he asked casually, staring down at Peter with those gleaming red eyes.

Another wave of tension washed over Peter as he realized that he did not know the answer to the Dark Lord's question. "He – he's probably gone into h-hiding as well, m-my Lord," he squeaked nervously, his fiddling growing more and more agitated as he quivered under Lord Voldemort's scrutiny. 

"Where?"

"I don't know, M-master," Peter answered honestly.

Voldemort let the tense silence linger horribly in the air for a few seconds before speaking again.

"Find out."

*

**Author's Note**

URGH! I hated this chapter... don't ask me why... but I didn't want to stray too far from the original version of this story because that would start a whole new project that I would probably end up abandoning. So I took the original text from the first version of this story and kind of... modified it? And added a few things... damn, that dialogue between Dumbledore and Snape was hard to write! And the one between Voldemort and Peter was even harder! Grr... I hate this chpater. =) 

To Sailor Sol – yes, I have joined the Yahoo! group, and about printing PU... well, I never really meant to, but I was reading it at a time when FanFiction.Net kept going down so I printed the chapters out and read them from the comfort of my bed! 

Well... er, read and review! Not sure if I can get the next chapter out soon, damned World History homework! I'm a freshman taking the equivalent of an AP class (it's a college textbook)! Ack! (Insert sad pathetic wail here.)

FYI: On November 1st, I will be changing my pen-name from 'Lovevanillacreme' to 'Sophocles' – just letting you all know =)

Also – I've posted a short vignette entitled 'Mass Breakout from Azkaban' about the reactions of various characters to the Azkaban breakout in OotP... read if you're interested, feedback always appreciated... =) - - what is it with me and the smiley faces [=)] today?

*

_"Then you should have died! ... Died rather than betray your friends, as we would have done for you!" – Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 375_


	4. Chapter Four: October 26, 1981

**Secret Keeper, Re-Post Edition**

**Chapter Four**

_October 26, 1981_

            Lily sighed as she watched the departing back of her husband's best friend through one of the windows of the house. "It's going to be so lonely around here without Sirius," she said.

            "You weren't really doing anything with him, were you?" James asked jokingly, a mischievous look crossing his features as he teased his wife.

            "Don't you dare suggest that, James Potter!" Lily said sharply. She rolled her eyes. "It's just so – so _quiet_ here without him."

            James looked thoughtful for a moment, fingering the piece of parchment that Sirius had given him. 

            "We'll ask Dumbledore to give this to Remus and Peter," he said, waving the small piece of paper in front of Lily. "Then they'll be able to visit us."

            "Yeah," agreed Lily. "And we certainly could use some company, couldn't we, Harry?" Lily turned toward her infant son, who was sitting in his crib gurgling happily.

            "Pafoo," said Harry.

            Lily and James both laughed. 

            "No, Harry, Padfoot's not coming again, at least not any time soon, but I'm sure Moony and Wormtail will be happy to see you," James said, plucking his son from out of the crib and holding him in his arms.

            Harry giggled and laughed. Reaching up with a chubby hand, he hit his father on the nose.

            "Hey!" James exclaimed in mock indignation. "Bad Harry, bad, bad Harry," he scolded, shaking a warning finger at the small infant.

            "Ah!" Harry gurgled, enclosing James' finger in his tiny fist and shaking it around in circles, narrowly missing hitting James in the face. "Da da!"

            James laughed again. "Did you see that, Lily, he-"

            He suddenly paused, noticing the tense expression on his wife's face. 

            "Lily?" he asked concernedly. "Lily, what's wrong?"

            Lily was standing with one arm propped on the kitchen counter, the other resting on her waist. The laughter on her face was gone – her lips were folded into a thin line, and her features had suddenly arranged themselves in an expression of worry and anxiety as she chewed on her lower lip.

            "Oh, I don't know," she said slowly and tiredly, brushing some of her red hair out of her face and releasing an exhausted sigh. "I guess I'm just worried – about Sirius, and us, and..." She trailed off speechlessly, unable to say another word.

            James smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "It'll be all right, Lily, it'll be all right," he said soothingly, placing his arm tenderly around her in a one-armed hug, her face buried in his shoulder. _Please don't cry – God, I hate it when she cries,_ James thought uneasily to himself.

            Lily was shaking, out of fear or nervousness, James didn't know; he only knew that she had to be held, to be comforted. Lily was, and always had been, an extremely passionate person, and oftentimes, her emotions reached extremes. She was stubborn and strong-willed, which she had proven more than once, and she was anything but weak, but she could also be worried, anxious, and upset, much more so than she liked to let on in front of other people. And so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding his wife firmly as if he never wanted to let go.

            "What are we going to do?" The quiet words tumbled shakily from Lily's lips as she continued to rest her head on James' shoulder. "What's going to happen to us? We've only just finished school, only just got married, how can this be happening? What about our future together? What about Harry? God, he's only one year old, how is going to grow up, he – oh my gosh!" Lily's arms tightened around her husband's waist.

            "It's okay," James whispered softly in her ear, stroking her dark red hair with his fingers. "Everything will be fine, you'll see. You and me and Harry, we'll all be all right."

            Lily raised her head slightly to look at her husband, her emerald green eyes glistening with emotions and unshed tears.

            "I know," she said quietly, a single tear rolling down the side of her face. "I know."

            Four o'clock in the afternoon found Peter Pettigrew sitting on a sofa in the living room of Remus Lupin's flat.

            "Tea, Wormtail?" Remus held out the flowered pot, steam rising out of the top.

            "Yes, please," Peter replied.

            Remus poured two cups of tea, one for his guest and one for himself, and sat down next to Peter on the old, worn-out sofa.

            "So, Peter," he said lightly, dropping two lumps of sugar into his cup and stirring gently. "What've you been up to lately?"

            "Oh, not much," the other man replied vaguely, his muscles tightening slightly as he tried to avoid fidgeting. "You, Moony?"

            Remus sighed in resignation. "Same as usual," he said, his tone suddenly becoming gloomy. "Working a few odd jobs, trying to find something permanent... it's getting harder and harder, you know, with all the new legislation that's being passed." He leaned back on the sofa, staring off into space.

            Peter looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye and noted the tired lines that had drawn themselves on Remus' face, as well as the prematurely graying hairs that had begun to crop up in the midst of Remus' light brown hair. Peter recalled that out of the four close friends, Moony had always been the most tired and weary-looking one, always looking as if he had just recovered from some terrible illness. He knew it must have been hard on Remus to attend school with his condition – besides having to suffer and endure the terrible transformations, he was often too exhausted to attend class afterwards, and would have to make up the missed class work on his own time. It couldn't have been much fun.

            "It must be hard," Peter said sympathetically, patting his friend's arm comfortingly. "Being... what you are, that is."

            "It is, Wormtail, it is," Remus said wearily, taking another sip of tea.

            Peter took a careful sip out of his own cup, being careful not to scald his tongue on the hot liquid. 

            "When's the next full moon, Moony?" he asked. "Maybe Prongs, Padfoot, and I can keep you company," he added, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. _Bring up the subject in a subtle way._

            Remus shook his head, a look of slight disappointment crossing his face. "It's not for quite a while, I think, but I doubt Padfoot and Prongs will be able to make it anyways," he said quietly. "Lily and James will be going into hiding with Harry, and Sirius is helping them with the Fidelius Charm. They've already cast it, I think, so we won't be seeing them for quite a while, I suppose."

            "Oh yeah." Peter tried to sound as if he had just remembered this. "I guess it wouldn't really do for Prongs and Lily to go anywhere now, huh? But I think Sirius might be able to make it, it would be really nice to see him again." 

            _Subtle_, he reminded himself, _be subtle._

            "Actually, I heard that Sirius is going into hiding as well." Remus placed his teacup on the table in front of him. "They think his life might be in danger, too, since he's the Lily and James' Secret-Keeper."

            "Really?" asked Peter, giving his voice a curious lilt to it and pretending that he had not already known what Remus had just told him. "So Sirius is at risk, too?"

            Remus nodded glumly, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of the cup that rested in his hands. "Voldemort wants nothing more than to kill Lily, James, and Harry. Right now, with the activation of the Fidelius Charm, Sirius is probably the only thing standing between Voldemort and the Potters... as long as Sirius doesn't tell Voldemort where James and Lily are, they're all safe. If Padfoot gets captured, then... well, you can figure out the rest." He gave an involuntary shudder.

            "Have you got any idea where he is, though?" Peter asked. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea for him to see us or for us to visit him, but maybe we can write to him, keep in touch."

            "Hmm," Remus said, looking thoughtful. "That might not be a bad idea, actually. I don't know where Padfoot is, but if I find out, I can let you know."

            It was as Remus said this that Peter suddenly felt a horrible stab of what could almost be called remorse. He was using his friend to find out information about another friend that would be used to kill two other friends. For a brief moment, he hated himself for his cowardice, for his weakness – but just as quickly, he squashed his guilty conscience, pounding it into the ground, not letting it get to him. It wasn't as if he had a _choice_; he didn't want to betray the people whom had protected him for so long, but they couldn't protect him any more, and the Dark Lord could. He, meek, weak, talent-less little Peter Pettigrew, would be able to _do_ something, make himself useful, be accepted – he had found his niche under the Dark Lord's care, and there he would be safe. He had already gotten himself into this – there was no way out, and why would he want to come out when it was safe and he was protected? And with this thought in mind, he stiffened his resolve.

            "That would be nice," he agreed, hoping that his voice sounded light-hearted and friendly. "Tell me if you find out anything, would you?"

            "Of course, Wormtail, of course," Remus said heartily, giving his friend a light squeeze of the hand.

            Peter smiled at the friendly gesture.

            _Yes. Mission accomplished._

            Tired and exhausted, Sirius collapsed onto the bed at number six, Chester Lane. He had just dragged his trunk from Godric's Hollow all the way to this god-forsaken place. The muscles in his arms were screaming in complaint, and his entire body was still sore from the casting of the Fidelius Charm earlier. _Oh well,_ he thought to himself. _This place isn't half bad, for an old Muggle house at least._

            Not bothering to remove his clothing, Sirius curled the blankets more tightly around his body. His trunk lay abandoned in a corner of the room. He would take care of it later. More important things came first. Things like rest. He shifted slightly on the bed, gingerly moving his weight in order to avoid straining his cramped muscles. _Why couldn't I just have Apparated here? _he wondered bitterly, massaging his aching calf with one hand.

            _Because then Voldemort and the Death Eaters would hunt you down and torture you, _a nasty little voice in his head replied scathingly, _and that would _really_ be a lot less painful than lying around on your ass in bed, wouldn't it? No comparison at all._

For some odd reason, Sirius suddenly had a perverse urge to slap himself. 

            _I never realized I could be so sarcastic... must be Prongs wearing off on me._

            He rolled over restlessly, agitating a few sore muscles and letting loose a stream of very flowery words in the process. Re-arranging the pillows on the bed so that he was slightly more comfortable, he flopped on his stomach and rested his chin over his interlaced fingers, which were cold and numb from dragging his trunk around all afternoon.

            Sirius wiggled around a little on the bed. There was a strange, nagging feeling at the back of his mind, one that he couldn't quite place, but whatever it was, it was preventing him from going to sleep. He just couldn't shake the notion that something was... wrong? Or maybe it was the stress of the ever-growing threat of Voldemort and his followers, or perhaps the burden of being responsible for the lives of three people, people whom Lord Voldemort wanted to kill very badly, people whom the Dark Lord would do anything to get to... Sirius gave an involuntary shudder. 

            _Well, he'll never get to Lily and James,_ Sirius promised himself with a sort of savage determination. _I'm making that my personal responsibility – I've _already_ made that my personal responsibility._

Sirius vowed that he would do anything in his power to protect his friends. _Voldemort'll never find them._

            However, although he tried to put on a brave and fearless face to the world, Sirius was actually quite terrified by the prospect of being in charge of the fates of three people, two of whom were his best friends, and one of whom was his godson. It didn't help that James, Lily, and Harry Potter were probably the three people he cared the most about in the world; he had never really found anyone in his family that he could stand to be in the same room with, let alone get along with, with the exception of his uncle Alphard, who was already dead and gone (though he had left Sirius quite a tidy sum of money) and his cousin Andromeda, who was many years his senior and already married with a daughter (Nymphadora – what a name!). 

            Age-wise, the closest relative he had was Regulus, his younger brother, but other than appearances and surnames, the two shared nothing else between them. Sirius was rebellious, often causing trouble and discord simply because he felt like it, which had been the source of much conflict back when he was still living with his parents. Regulus was the opposite – he followed blindly in his parents' paths, fooling himself with illusions of the so-called superiority of pureblooded wizards and boosting his over-inflated ego with false pride drawn from the wealth and reputation of the Black family. Sirius had never had much tolerance for Regulus; indeed, Sirius had never had much tolerance for _anyone_ in his family, save Alphard and Andromeda, and therefore had not had any friends until he had gone to Hogwarts and met James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and later Lily Evans (_It's Lily Potter, now,_ he thought with a snicker). James had been his first real friend, had become his best friend, and was now his closest friend, even more so than any brother could ever be. And when Sirius had run away from home, too fed up with his parents' prejudice and pureblood mania, it had been the Potters who took him in, who offered him a home. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had treated him like a son, and James had become his surrogate brother. He had lived with in the Potter household until he was seventeen and graduated school; by that time, he was able to buy his own house and support himself (aided, of course, by Uncle Alphard's gold). 

            So in reality, the Potters were really the only people that Sirius could call his family – and the idea of losing James and Lily, or somehow being responsible for their deaths, scared the shit out of him. What if he failed? What if he was captured and was forced into revealing the secret that James had entrusted him with? What would happen then? Could he honestly trust himself to protect James, to keep him safe? It was a horrifying question to be asking himself, and it caused quite a lurching sensation in the pit of Sirius' stomach, which remained there and tormented him until the late hours of the night, upon which it finally subsided and let the weary, exhausted man seek a small amount of refuge in his restless, uneasy sleep, sprawled out upon the bed with the sheets wound tightly around him.

*

**Author's Note**

            Another chapter... decently written, I suppose, but kind of choppy and short... and nothing happens! I guess this is just a transition... lots of fluff, mush, and almost-but-not-quite-angst. Maybe I should have just tacked this onto the end of the last chapter...

            Sorry to say there will be a lot of Sirius-suffering in coming chapters (don't worry, he won't die... _yet_)... anyhoo, a question for the readers – how emotional (as in angry/upset) should James get later in the story? On a scale from 1-10, one being the least and ten being the most – drop me a review or e-mail. In the original version of this story, quite a few people told me I had James come off as much too emotional, but others said that he was characterized perfectly... so just tell me what you think. Personally, I think he would be about a seven, but that's just me...

            To Sailor Sol – you hope Sirius won't get caught? I can hardly blame you. We all love him, but remember, this is "a tale of betrayal, angst, and Sirius-torture." (Insert evil cackle here.) I am undoubtedly one of the cruelest people I know. Still, you never know what I might decide... maybe I'll let Sirius off the hook (I can hear the readers of the original version snickering in the background). =) 

            To fairysprinkles – my native language is Mandarin Chinese... it's too hard to type though. Takes forever. And I mean that quite literally.

            A word to the wise (and I speak from personal experience) – never read or write angst while listening to sad music, especially if the angst involves Sirius. That's asking for a Prozac dependency.

            Right now, I really hate: (1) my PJ pants, which are four sizes too big, (2) World History Homework, which is keeping me up until the wee hours of the morning and is giving me a horrific headache, (3) J.K. Rowling, because I am currently suffering from a bout of severe Sirius-depression, which comes from reading too much fan-fic, (3) the damned _huge _welt on my thigh that looks remarkably like a hickey, but is not – it _itches_, and (4) myself, for writing such poor quality (expletive deleted) and for procrastinating the work that I had nine days to do until 11:57 Sunday night. Shit.

            Next chapter – Snape does some spying, Lily and James have a heart to heart (I tried, I really did!), and Sirius plays solitary chess. Will be longer than this sad little piece of work... I'm accustomed to writing long chapters, but it's harder when I'm revising text instead of starting from scratch... grr... 

*

_            "I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I'll never understand why I didn't see you where the spy from the start." – Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 369_


	5. Chapter Five: October 28, 1981

**Secret Keeper, Re-post Edition**

**Chapter Five**

_October 28, 1981_

Sirius' next two days at number six Chester Lane were anything but eventful. If anything, he felt that the boredom was driving him to the edge of insanity. Pity he couldn't just leap off that edge... but with the important task that he had been entrusted with, it would probably be better if he remained sane. Or at least relatively sane.

_Was I ever really sane in the first place?_ he mused as he sat at the kitchen table, deeply involved in his third game of solitary chess for the day. _Probably not._

Sirius chuckled quietly to himself as he scrutinized the chessboard in front of him with careful eyes. He was playing the white pieces now... and his king, while not in check, was in dire danger of being cornered and forced into checkmate (which was actually a result of the last move he himself had made with the black pieces). He drummed his fingers on the mahogany table pensively, his face screwed up in a contemplative expression as he pondered his plight. 

He scowled slightly as he shook his bangs out of his face (they were short and spindly, as he had not bothered to re-gel his hair) and propped his elbows onto the table so that he could lean forward to examine the situation that his chessmen were in. He could move the queen to protect the king... but that would leave his bishop to be taken, a move he didn't want to make just yet. Being the mastermind behind both sides of the game, he knew which moves he could or could not make if he was to keep the white king safe. The only problem was that since he had developed playing strategies for both the black and white pieces, he knew how the black pieces would counter to any move the white pieces would make... therefore causing him to keep adjusting his decision accordingly. If he moved the white bishop to one spot, he knew that the next move he made would be to move the black queen to another spot, which meant that he would have to play the white knight in _that_ position, which meant-

_Goddamn it._ Sirius slammed his fist onto the kitchen table in frustration, startling several of the chess pieces and causing them to jump up from their positions, hissing with surprise and protesting adamantly about the 'violent' treatment. He was stuck; he was trapped in the cycle of his own thought processes. He couldn't decide where to move – because no matter which piece he played, he knew what the strategic response would be, and – unable to ignore this knowledge – he would change his mind and decide to move the piece elsewhere... which would begin the process all over again. Sirius scowled as he finally conceded to himself the inevitable – solitary chess was bloody useless. The first game had been amusing in its own odd way, the second game had been a means to pass the time, but now, for the third time that day, Sirius was in the midst of an intense chess-battle against _himself_... and that's when the futility of his situation finally hit him.

_I really am a wreck,_ he observed, running a hand through his hair in an extremely James-like fashion. _I'm trying to beat _myself _at chess... that's bloody ridiculous. How do you beat yourself at something? _he wondered. If hypothetically you were to defeat yourself, you would be both the loser and the winner, which would be impossible because losing and winning were opposite conditions that could not co-exist in one person... unless you were really _two_ people... which was not possible because the mind that was controlling the moves of the chess pieces shared the thoughts and strategies of each side of the board... Sirius' mind was beginning to whirl as his brain spun around in the cycle of possibilities, a logical paradox that kept circling around itself, the sense and reason in it just visible but somehow unable to be grasped...

In a spontaneous release of unexplainable tension, Sirius reached up with his right arm and violently knocked all the chess pieces onto the floor, each one falling to the cold tile with a clanking noise and a loud shriek.

Snape watched carefully from afar as two Death Eaters kneeled reverently in front of the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," he heard one of them murmur, though he was unable to recognize the voice. 

_Undoubtedly one of the Dark Lord's spies, _he thought bitterly to himself. _Probably some imbecile Ministry worker._

The other Death Eater, the one whom had not yet spoken, kissed the hem of the Dark Lord's robes.

"Master," he whispered, his voice respectful, yet too quiet to be clearly heard from the distance from which the watchful Snape stood.

His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the two men who were now speaking in hushed whispers to their master. Snape did not recognize either of them; undoubtedly, they were spies working undercover for the Dark Lord, spies whose identities the Dark Lord did not trust to be revealed to anybody save the Death Eaters in his inner circle... of which Snape was definitely not part of. True, he had not done anything to merit the Dark Lord's distrust, but he had not shown any spectacular indication of unwavering loyalty either. He had made considerable progress within the ranks of the Death Eaters for one his age (he had only graduated from Hogwarts a little over three years ago), but his status was not considered high enough for him to be in on all the 'inside info'... which meant, unfortunately, that the Dark Lord did not leave him with an inkling of a clue as to who the spies were – meaning that Snape would have to piece together the evidence himself.

He warily glanced over the second Death Eater, the one who had kissed the Dark Lord's robes. The face, hair-color, and other distinguishing features could not be noticed through the mask the man wore, but Snape noticed that the Death Eater's body was fairly well-built, and he was rather taller than average... could this be Sirius Black? The man's physique was similar to Black's – tall, fit, lean – but yet... somehow, Snape could not imagine the infamous Sirius Black kissing the hem of _anyone's_ robes, let alone the Dark Lord's. 

_But that's hardly any evidence to say that it _isn't _Black, _he reminded himself, scowling. _Who knows what the stupid idiot's really up to?_

Snape frowned slightly, trying to erase from his face the pensive expression that he knew must be there as his gaze washed over the other Death Eater, the one who had spoken first, who was standing further away from him and was therefore harder to make out. The man was partially hidden from Snape's view by the second Death Eater, but from what Snape could see, the man was short, his height maybe reaching about a head under that of his companion. _A runt,_ he noted sourly. Observations on the man's physical attributes were hard, if not impossible, to make, but Snape could tell, even from the distance, that this man did not have the lean body-build of the first, nor did he have the same confidence in his stance and straightness in his posture that the other Death Eater had. Snape stared critically at this shorter man for a few moments before conceding that this man, too, was unrecognizable to him... _damn it. _

He finally ceased his study of the two Death Eaters and strained his ears in an attempt to gather some of the conversation. He was rather too far away from the Dark Lord to hear clearly and did not want to risk moving closer, lest the Dark Lord be suspicious of his intentions, but he found that if he pulled together all of his concentration and tried to block out all other background noises, he could hear the whispers of the two Death Eaters, and even pick up a few words or phrases, although he couldn't establish who it was who was saying what...

"Yes, m-making progress... promised to tell me... will report to you..."

"... think some Aurors might be getting suspicious..."

"... haven't had any contact... d-don't know..."

"... already set up the network... I've got men regulating Apparition and the Floo... no sign of him..."

_So one of them is definitely a Ministry employee, a fairly high-ranking one... and they're apparently trying to track someone's movements, if they're looking into the Apparition records and patrolling the Floo network... _He made a mental note to remember this.

"I see." Snape could clearly hear the frown in what he recognized to be the Dark Lord's voice, quiet though it was. "So we've got no leads?"

"No... definitely getting t-there, my Lord... as soon as possible..."

Snape watched as the Dark Lord nodded curtly in response to whatever the Death Eater had said. 

"Very well," the red-eyed man said, staring down at the two servants, who were still kneeling at his feet. "You may go."

And, much to Snape's disappointment, the two Death Eater spies Apparated away. He had gotten information, he had heard news that would be potentially valuable to Dumbledore... but would it be enough? He bitterly wished that he had been able to hear more, to stand closer, or that the spies had stayed a while longer so that he could listen to more of their conversation... and possibly identify who they were...

But it had not been a day wasted, Snape conceded grudgingly, straightening out his robes as he tried to avoid eye contact with the Dark Lord or any of the other Death Eaters. He would have something to report back to Dumbledore... that there was definitely a Death Eater who held a position of power at the Ministry, and who was using the power and influence to help the Dark Lord hunt someone down, maybe Potter...

Snape stepped into a shadowy corner of the room and Apparated just south of the Forbidden Forest, making his to the school and up to the headmaster's office.

Life at Godric's Hollow seemed to have reached standstill for the Potters, the time of two days moving at a truly snail-worthy pace as each passing minute built upon their anxiety and tension, stretching their nerves to the point where they found themselves pacing the halls of their house, lost in meditative thought, not doing anything productive, letting hours go to waste... Lily and James tried desperately to distract themselves from the dreadful unease and disquiet that seemed to permeate through the entire household, but their efforts were futile – they would try to force conversation, would attempt to talk out some of their innermost fears, but the words would somehow become more and more awkward, and gradually, their voices would fade into nothingness, a nothingness so silent that it deafened both James and Lily with its soundless scream. It was a horrible sensation, the apprehension weighing so heavily upon their shoulders that it was destroying their relationship, their confidence in each other. It was as though a wall had been erected between them, barricading them within themselves, preventing their searching hands from seeking each other out and finding comfort.

In short, life at Godric's Hollow was absolutely miserable.

Lily shifted restlessly in her sitting position on her living room couch as she stared despondently into space.

"Hey."

She felt herself coming back to her senses as her husband placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, glancing deeply into her eyes with an expression of concern. She attempted a shaky smile as she rested her own pale hand on top of his, noticing how warm it was compared to hers.

"Are you feeling all right?" James asked, his hazel eyes shining with worry.

She nodded glumly, if only out of instinct. Why did people ask that question? What answer did they expect to receive? Anyone who was ever asked if they were feeling 'all right' always responded affirmatively anyways, just as she had. But it wasn't true. Lily had lied. Of course she wasn't feeling all right? How could she be? One of the most feared wizards in all the world was trying to kill everyone she loved – and because she needed to protect herself and her family, she was putting one of her closest friends at risk as well, endangering him with something far worse than death. The gloomy misery that had descended upon her like a smothering veil was suffocating, causing her to feel short of breath... a fist in her stomach... and iron hand clutching her heart – the pain that was physical and at the same time, emotional, real and at the same time, unreal. Her life made absolutely no sense... her world seemed so – _wrong._

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with me, James," she lied, giving a small sigh as her husband sat down beside her. "Just a horrid combination of nerves, paranoia, and boredom." _Well, at least that last part was true. _

James did not smile at her feeble attempt at a joke.

"You're sure?" he asked dubiously, removing the hand from her shoulder and tenderly reaching up to stroke her hair. "You can tell me if there's something on your mind, you know."

"Oh, it's just me, James," she said, trying to forcibly add a touch of brevity to her downtrodden voice. "Always gotta be worrying about something, you know..."

"Yeah, I know," James responded heavily, fidgeting slightly uneasily as he adjusted his seat on the couch. "I just don't like to see you this... depressed, Lily."

"I don't think I'm all that depressed, James," Lily replied carefully, grasping her husband's hand tightly in her own. "Really, there shouldn't be anything for me to be anxious about... I think that it's just the boredom that's getting to me. There's nothing to _do_."

James nodded his agreement. "I understand... I just wish we could go outside!"

Lily chewed her lower lip contemplatively. "Hmm... technically, the front and back yard are part of the house, right? So we should still be protected if we go there..."

The expression that crossed James' features was one of apprehension. 

"I don't know, Lily," he said slowly, his words drawn out with caution. "You might be right... but I don't think we should take that risk. It might even interfere with the working of the charm."

"I supposed you're right," the red-haired woman admitted. "But I just wish there was something we could do!" Lily burst out, her voice passionate with frustration. "I feel so _useless_, just sitting here, doing nothing! If we're going to stay cooped up in our house all day we might as well entertain ourselves, for God's sake!"

"Well, what do you suggest you do?" James asked dully, kicking the leg of the coffee table with his right foot.

Lily scowled fiercely. "I don't know! _Anything,_ as long as it's better than this." She paused slightly, feeling slightly guilty for taking her anger out on her husband, who had to be suffering just as much, if not more. "Did you give the address parchment to Dumbledore? Can Remus and Peter visit us?"

James nodded, running his free hand through the back of his hair in a manner reminiscent of his school days. "Sent it over to Hogwarts yesterday. Dumbledore contacted Wormtail and Moony for us; they're coming here for dinner the day after tomorrow."

Lily sighed, her back hitting the cushion of the couch as she relaxed and slumped back in her seat. 

"Good," she said firmly, propping her feet on the small table. "Though I'm not sure I can wait two nights," she commented wryly. "I think I now know what people mean when they say they're dying of boredom."

"Well, now you know why me and Sirius always slept during History of Magic," James teased her, smirking slightly as he recalled the lectures that Lily used to give him about not paying attention in class.

"I know that _you _slept in History of Magic because you felt you were too superior to actually have to listen to your teachers," Lily retorted playfully, alluding to some of the accusations she had once made against him for being 'big-headed' and 'an arrogant, bullying toe-rag'. "And Sirius slept because he knew he could – I don't think there was one class he actually stayed awake in, but somehow he managed to pass all of them. Lucky prat," she added with a smile.

James grinned at the fond memory. "Not as lucky as I am," he said warmly, kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Oh really?" Lily queried with feigned ignorance. "Pray tell your reasoning for that statement, Mr. Potter."

"I'm luckier than Sirius will ever be because I have you," James informed her. "And that you agreed to become _Mrs._ Potter."

Lily rested her head on James' shoulder, obviously pleased with her husband's response.

"Hmm," she said, feeling some of the tension leaving her as she sat with her husband and shared a light-hearted moment. "Well, you certainly are a lucky man, aren't you? You found someone willing to deal with the stuck-up, arrogant likes of _you_." 

James gave her a look of mock indignation. "Is it really that hard to be my wife?" he asked, trying – and failing – to sound terribly hurt. "Am I really that insufferable?"

"Yes, it is and you are," Lily said with an air of haughty condescension, sticking her nose into the air in an exaggerated gesture. "You and all of your little gang of school friends. You should consider yourself quite fortunate that the wonderful Mrs. Potter – meaning myself – is ever-so _kind_ and _patient_ enough to put up with _you_ – after all, I highly doubt that there's going to be a Mrs. _Black_ any time soon."

James snickered at the idea of Sirius getting married. "What an... interesting prospect," he remarked, holding back the wild laughter that threatened to escape him. "If Sirius knew the meaning of the word 'commitment', it might even be a remote possibility... with added emphasis on the word 'remote'," he commented jokingly.

"Definitely very remote," Lily agreed as her husband draped his arm around her shoulders. "I don't know about you, but I don't think anyone would want to marry a man who yodels in the shower and wears rubber ducky knickers."

James grinned at the mention of some of his friend's stranger habits. "How about me?" he asked, smiling. "Who do you think would want to marry a big-headed, arrogant, toe-rag of a Quidditch player?"

Lily kissed her husband lightly on the tip of his nose.

"Me," she replied simply. "I would."

Somehow, in the midst of the playful banter they exchanged, they found that the atmosphere of gloominess and tension had lifted, and the screaming silence and dissipated along with it, leaving a peaceful contentment in its wake.

Trying to remain hidden by the shadows of the tall trees that dotted his path, Snape trudged slowly up to the school, his normally immaculate robes splattered with dirt and grime. Taking pains to remain carefully inconspicuous, he stepped through the large doorway of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and tread slowly down the adjourning hallway. His soiled shoes left wet, muddy footprints on the clean marble floor, great offending splotches that normally would have irked his refined sense of cleanliness and order, but now he did not notice – and even if he had, it was very much doubtful that he would have cared at all. He continued his stiff, steady walk through the school, his gait uneasy and awkward and his pace slow as he approached the stone gargoyle that he knew to signify the entrance to Albus Dumbledore's office.

Speaking just loudly enough for the gargoyle to hear him and just softly enough not to be heard by anyone else, Snape whispered the password to the headmaster's office, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he attempted to avoid the notice of passers-by in the halls. Thankfully, he had arrived at a sufficiently late hour when most of the students had retired to their common rooms; the amount of people walking through that particular hallway was fairly scarce, and so Snape avoided the scrutiny of unwanted eyes as he stepped into Dumbledore's office and onto the spiral staircase that was revealed as the gargoyle turned.

The old silver-haired man sitting at the desk looked up as Snape approached. If he was at all surprised at the arrival of the newcomer at such an unusual hour, he did not show it.

"Severus," he said in greeting, "please, take a seat." He gestured towards one of the comfortable looking armchairs that faced his desk.

Snape lowered himself into the chair, his expression stony and his movements deliberate as he sat down across from the headmaster. Not waiting for the older man to acknowledge him again or request that he speak, he began to describe to Dumbledore the conversation that he had witnessed between the Dark Lord and his two spy Death Eaters, and also to attempt to create an adequate portrayal of the men's physical attributes.

"One of the men was short, of rather stout stature," he said quietly, keeping his tone impassive and generally expressionless. "I could not examine him more closely, as his form was hidden behind that of the other man, who was rather taller and of a more athletic build."

Dumbledore, who had remained silent throughout the entirety of Snape's narrative, now began to speak.

"Well... I don't suppose that the description you've given me is sufficient enough to identify either man... you have no guesses as to who they are?"

Snape's upper lip curled slightly. 

"I have no theory as to who the former of the two men might be. The second man's features I could not make out, but his physique was not unlike that of Sirius Black – the same arrogant stance, the straight-backed posture..."

Apprehensive wrinkles formed on the corners of the headmaster's mouth.

"Are your remarks the hypotheses of objective examination," Dumbledore asked quietly, "or are you allowing childhood prejudices to distort your observations subjectively?"

Snape felt the characteristic sneer crossing his own face as the implication of the headmaster's words sank in. The headmaster's statement was buffered by politeness and grandiose words, but the accusation was still as piercing as ever. 

_Figures,_ he thought to himself with disgust, _the man doesn't think that his perfect Gryffindors could ever do such a thing... so much for instructor impartiality._

The younger man's antipathy must have arranged itself into his facial features, because Dumbledore looked at him with a somber but slightly amused look and said, "Severus, do not mistake my meaning. I was only wondering, if the situation were to be looked at from a _purely_ objective standpoint, how much of chance there is that this second man you speak of actually is Sirius Black."

_Damn the man. And damn Black, too, while I'm at it._

Snape felt his scowl deepen, his discomfiture no doubt increased by his loathing to admit that he might be wrong.

"I don't know," he snapped, feeling incredibly small as the words escaped his chapped lips. "The resemblance in the physical form is certainly there, but I could not establish any of the man's facial features under the mask and the voice was far too quiet to be distinguished." Personally, he thought there was as much chance of Black being the second Death Eater as any other man, but he would not admit this to Dumbledore.

"I see," Professor Dumbledore said, after a slight pause in which he was no doubt calculating the worth of Snape's statement. Another moment of lingering silence. "So this is one more matter in which I will have to investigate... very well, Severus – have you any idea why Voldemort is paying particular attention to the comings and goings through the Floo Network and by means of Apparition?"

Snape stiffened, trying not to show any qualms about hearing the Dark Lord's name spoken aloud. "The way the statement was made sounded as if the Dark Lord was trying to track the movements of a particular individual, whom I do not know. All I am aware of is that he has a network of well-placed spies within the Ministry of Magic itself, and is using them to keep track of all Floo trips and Apparitions to and from England."

"Hmm. I see..." A pensive look had drawn itself across Dumbledore's face, and the comprehensive look in the old man's eyes plainly told that he had formed some sort of a conclusion from the information given him, but whatever thought had crossed the headmaster's mind, he did not share with Snape.

"How interesting," was all he said before pushing up his half-moon spectacles and fiddling slightly with the eagle-feather quill in his left hand. "Well, Severus, that is quite enough for tonight. Again, I must thank you for the effort you have made on the Order's behalf to obtain this information."

Snape lowered his head in a gesture of respect. He felt an irritating curiosity as to what Dumbledore had made of the given information, but did not allow his inquisitiveness to surface. He merely nodded slightly, uttered a quick 'my pleasure' (as if), and stood up abruptly, brushing off his robes as he did so.

Dumbledore, too, began to stand upon seeing his formal pupil about to make an exit.

"No need," Snape said curtly, walking towards the door with purposeful strides. "I shall see myself out, Headmaster."

*

**Author's Note**

Hmm... this chapter does seem to be a lot more satisfactory than the last one... the Snape thing was so hard to write, though! The only time I can do a good Snape-characterization is when I'm writing dialogue for him... I can't write from his point-of-view because he is a such a complex and introverted person. Not that the other characters aren't _just_ as complex, but I've always found Snape harder to understand. It seems he always tries to hide his true emotions under that cold exterior. Basically, I think he's a good person (working for Dumbledore), but has lots of, er, attitude problems (his attitude towards Harry), which make his thoughts very difficult to guess and put into writing. His dialogue is easy – he's always condescending and cold, but can be grudgingly respectful if needed. But, unfortunately for me, there _was_ no Snape-dialogue in the first little Snape scene I included in this chapter and very little in the second... why can't I just be smart for once and play to my strengths?! Grr... I'm an idiot.

The Lily/James thing... not really a heart to heart, I know – more like a droning, meaningless conversation that's here only for the purpose of informing the readers that Lupin and Peter will indeed be dropping in for dinner on October 30, 1981... what happens then, you'll just have to see (insert _really _evil cackle here). I hope I kept Lily and James reasonably in character... I kind of had to speculate on their personalities based on what I read in OotP... I was rereading the portion of their dialogue and thinking I might have reversed their personalities a little, making Lily too fretful and James too calm, but I was thinking that Lily would be just as frustrated as James with being forced into house-arrest, only she would have a harder time hiding her emotions. I also wanted James to be her pillar of support – I always imagined him to be a strong person, someone who can hold their own and remain calm and rational. Also, don't forget that Lily's a redhead – I wanted to give her some of the characteristic redhead impatience and passion. I probably screwed that up big-time, but oh well...

Sirius and his solitary chess games... what can I say? He needed to do _something _characteristically eccentric, unique, and idiotic – what better than a mental battle with yourself? I thought that this would be suitable for him. Out of all the characters in this story, Sirius is definitely the easiest to write, with James a somewhat distant second. Not only is he my favorite character, he's probably also the character I have the most in common with, as well as the one (out of the ones in this story) whose personality is most well-defined by J.K. Rowling, which makes him a bit less of a challenge. Also, the advantage of writing about Sirius is that as a character, he is extremely versatile – you can alter his personality slightly to your taste and still make it plausible, making him a very valuable tool for fan-fiction writers. Plus, he is reputedly very, very hot... =)

To Chocolate Taco – is this chapter long enough to be remotely satisfying? I tried! And, to answer your question, _I _need to do homework to get into college... and to avoid a ranting, raving mad mother! James gets an eight on the scale, huh? Well, I guess everything's headed in the right direction, for your tastes anyways...

To Ronja – as I said to Chocolate Taco, if that's how you feel about James, the far-off-in-the-distance future chapters should be quite suited to your preferences... =) Thanks for the feedback.

To Sailor Sol – yes, you certainly can wish all you want... but the fact remains that while I already know how this story will end, I have yet to decide whether or not Sirius will actually live it through... and I am laughing my a _ _ off at the expressions that must be on the faces of all the Sirius-fans who read this... can we spell 'evil'? However, evil though I may be, I am actually quite serious [Sirius =)] about this – it's a subject I've been debating with myself over for quite a while. To kill Sirius or not to kill Sirius, that is the question... but don't worry, I won't pull a J.K. Rowling. If I do murder Sirius, he'll have a very angst-worthy death.

To Anne-Evans89 – you hate Wormtail now? Lol, I hate him _all_ the time, and wait until you see what happens in the later chapters! And I have to agree with you, it is really sad reading about Lily, James, and Sirius – Sirius _especially_, knowing what he has to go through and how much he suffers and is changed... but then again, that could just be more Sirius-bias on my part... =)

To gudrina – to clarify, _this_ is actually the re-done version of the story (hence the name _Re-post Edition_). The original version of this story is much more lacking in quality... glad you like this, though!

Oh yeah... some of you might've noticed that I changed the summary for this story... I thought it captured the tone and mood of the story more effectively and accurately... what do you all think?

*

_"[This] piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents ... This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family." – Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 375_


	6. Chapter Six: October 30, 1981

**Secret Keeper, Re-post Edition**

**Chapter Six**

_October 30, 1981_

            On the morning of the day when they were expecting the long-awaited company to arrive, Lily and James found themselves in unusually high spirits. James, rather than skulking around the kitchen as usual, hummed merrily to himself as he grabbed a blueberry muffin and a copy of the Daily Prophet, which he began to read with abnormal vigor.

            "James, you do realize that that newspaper is about two weeks old, right?" Lily asked amusedly, leaning forward to talk to her husband and propping her elbows on the kitchen island that overlooked the dining room table.

            James' eyes didn't stray from the article that they were on. "Of course, my dear, of course," he said absentmindedly, not looking at his wife as he happily chewed away at his muffin.

            Lily smiled to herself at the sight of her cheerful husband. "Does your new-found state of jolliness have anything to do with the fact that your two immature, juvenile friends are coming to have dinner with us tonight?"

            James grinned back at his wife. "I thought you considered them your friends, too, dear," he said. The expression on his face grew darker and slightly more subdued as he continued. "I just wish Sirius were coming... it's hard, not being in contact with him, you know..."

            Lily, too, was concerned about Sirius' well being and wished she could have seen him more often, but frankly, she was tired of her husband's gloomy moroseness about his best friend. 

            "If you're so worried about him, write him a letter," she said, trying to keep all impatience out of her voice. After all, it had to be hard for James to know that someone he cared about so much as in so much danger.

            Slowly, James turned his head to face Lily. "Am I allowed to do that?" he asked cautiously. "It won't affect the charm, will it?"

            "It shouldn't," Lily replied evenly. "I don't see how it possibly could." 

            She reached into a side drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, an eagle-feather quill, and a bottle of green ink.

            "Write," she said firmly, planting them over her husband's newspaper. "I'm tired of your constant moping – this will help, and I daresay Sirius will need some relief from boredom."

            James gave his wife an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Lily," he said, unscrewing the bottle of ink. He dipped his quill into the bottle and began to write.

            The day passed slowly, and the initial joviality that had marked the beginning of the morning faded slightly as mid-morning came, then noon, and then the afternoon. Lily had cleaned the house, taken a nap, woken up, messed up the house again, taken another nap, woken up again, and was now in an extremely disgruntled and very restless mood. James had attempted a letter to Sirius, not thought of anything worth putting in words, given up, polished his broomstick four times, and was now trying once again to compose a suitable letter. It seemed that the prospect of the impending company only made the Potters all the more eager for said company to actually come – because they sure as hell had not been this anxious the day before. Lily, growing wearing of her numerous naps, was now flipping through a cookbook looking for recipes.

            "Oooh, look," she said enthusiastically. "This chicken casserole sounds interesting... do you think Remus and Peter would want to eat it if I made it for tonight's dinner?" 

            "As long as we're not eating escargot I'm sure they could care less."

            Lily gave her husband an appraising look but said nothing. James went back to fiddling with the corner of his parchment.

            "How far have you gotten with that letter?" Lily asked amusedly.

            James glared back at her – he understood that this was her way of getting back at him for his escargot comment.

            "I've addressed the envelope," he said tersely. 

            "Right." Lily smiled serenely.

            James gave her one last look before turning back to his depressingly blank parchment. He put the tip of his quill to his mouth, sucking pensively.

            "Puttanesca sauce!" Lily exclaimed, looking up from her book. She immediately marked the page.

            James cupped his forehead in his hands, sighing. He wrote:

_Dear Padfoot,_

_            Lily's making something called 'puttanesca sauce' for dinner... God help me..._

It would be a long afternoon until Remus and Peter came.

            "Lily! James!" a pleasant voice called out jovially. 

            James stood up from his seat on the couch, and Lily turned around from her position in the kitchen to see Remus Lupin stepping out of their fireplace, brushing ash off his shabby robes. Remus was not a tall man, but he walked with a sort of stately grace that did not allow him to be perceived as short. His light brown hair was already prematurely flecked with gray at the temples, and his pale blue eyes had a faded, weary look, which made him seem unhealthy than he really was, but gave him an air of venerability. The smoothness and pleasantness of his voice seemed to reflect the calmness and inner tranquility of his personality, which he demonstrated as he greeted the Potters. 

            "Lily, you look lovely as ever. James, why, I do believe that your head has grown even larger since the last time I saw you!" Remus said amiably. He looked much more sickly and tired than James remembered seeing him, but he also looked happier than he had been in a long time. _It must be hard on him, having to go through full moon without Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs._

            "Yes, and it's lovely to see you too, Moony," James replied, dropping Sirius' unfinished letter onto the table as Lily walked into the living room, sniggering. James gave her a mock death-glare before turning back to his friend. "How are you?"

            Remus shrugged, his slumping shoulders adding a look of over-exhaustion to his thin frame. "I'm all right, I guess. Peter came with me, I expect he'll be here any mo- ah, here he is," he said, interrupting himself as he announced Peter's arrival.

            James turned to face the fireplace, which had once again turned green. This time, a short man stepped towards them, peering at them with watery eyes.

            "Lily, James, how are you two doing?" Peter asked casually. Peter's physique was perhaps the complete opposite of Remus' – Peter, beyond being a few inches shorter than his friends, had the appearance of a man who was short; people just always seemed to be looking over his head. Instead of light brown hair or jet black hair, Peter's hair was a very washed-out shade of blond, so light that it sometimes appeared colorless in the sun. The blond hue matched quite nicely with the dark brown of his eyes. The eyes, wide and innocent looking, were expressive, but not deep and soulful like Remus' faded blue ones – nor were they as unnerving and intense as Sirius' sharp blue-gray eyes. Overall, Peter was a plain person, but his ordinary features were comfortable and palatial to those around him, and the look suited him well.

            "Well, now, at least that's a nicer greeting than the one Moony gave us," said James, who was already starting to feel much more light-hearted at the sight of his two old school friends. "We're doing as well as can be expected, nice to have some company though."

            "Yes, yes," Peter said airily. "Well, I'm glad that we could make it."

            Lily smiled. "I'm glad, too – you have no idea how annoying James was starting to get?"

            "How annoying James was _starting_ to get?" Remus asked teasingly. "He was _just_ starting to get annoying?"

            "Hey!" James said, trying to look offended at his friend's implication that he was a habitually annoying person (which was true). "I happen to be a very handsome, charming, charismatic man!"

            "And so modest, too," Peter added wryly, grinning at the two men. He sat down on the living room couch, where James joined him. Remus opted for a soft cushy ottoman while Lily straddled the back of a wooden chair.

            "So," she said, tucking a stray strand of dark red hair behind her ear. "What have the two of you been up to?" Her eyes darted back and forth between Remus and Peter.

            Remus sighed, sounding nearly as tired as he looked. "Not much... I've been moping around the house as usual?"

            "Still no luck finding a job?" Lily asked softly, concern for her friend glistening in her eyes.

            He shook his head dejectedly. "No... not for more than a month, anyways."

            Peter patted his friend's back supportively. "You're always welcome to stay with me, if you need to."

            Remus smiled weakly. "Thanks – but let's talk about something else other than my depressing life, shall we? What about you, Peter? How's your job at the Ministry?"

            "Horrible," Peter announced, giving a mock shiver. "Quite possibly the most boring job imaginable."

            James smiled at his friend's sentiment. "What department was it that you were working in again, Wormtail?"

            "They've got me in the Department of Magical Transportation – I'm interning for Mr. Sorenson."

            "Sorenson? As in Eugene Sorenson?" James asked, his eyebrows shooting into his hair.

            "Yeah... unpleasant bloke, him. You know him?"

            James remembered Sirius saying (with no small amount of dislike) that Eugene Sorenson was a friend of his father's – but he couldn't bring himself to say his best friend's name, not now, when it hurt so much to think about it.

            "I've heard some things about him," he remarked in a would-be casual manner.

            Peter sat further back into the couch. "None of them good, I bet."

            "No, not really," conceded James. "What're they having you do?"

            "Nothing of importance," replied Peter dryly. "I get to monitor the Floo network, doesn't that sound like jolly fun? I'm the one who makes sure that no runaway mental patients are trying to escape asylums by means of magical fires." He rolled his eyes. 

            Remus winced. "Ouch... suddenly my jobless state doesn't sound so painful after all."

            "Tell me about it," said Peter gloomily. 

            A strange sizzling sound seemed to be emanating from the kitchen.

            "Shit!" cried Lily, uttering the rare (for her) swear word. "The puttanesca!"

            Remus raised an eyebrow at James as if to say 'What in the holy hell is puttanesca?'

            "It's a type of sauce," James explained to his two clueless friends. "Lily wanted to try it on you guys."

            "I see," Peter said, sounding a bit weary of being the guinea pig of Lily's newest culinary experiment.

            James chuckled at the expression on Peter's face. "I don't blame you, Wormtail. I won't even tell you what happened when she tried to cook Chinese."

            "Hey!" Lily's indignant voice rang out from the kitchen. "Don't think I didn't hear that, James Potter! If you have nothing better to do than insult my food you won't be eating it!"

            Remus and Peter shared a collective wince.

            "It's okay, Prongs," Remus said. "If she decides to starve you, I'm sure Wormtail and I can afford to bring you a few table scraps, isn't that right, Wormtail?"

            Peter smirked. "Oh yes, poor Prongs."

            James glared at his friends. "She may be cooking the food, but I'm paying for it. If you want any I'd suggest you both shut up now."

            Remus merely smiled.

            "Dinner's ready!" Lily yelled at the top of her lungs. The smell of something burning filled the room.

            James grimaced.

            Remus chuckled at his friend's apprehensive look. "It can't be that bad, James. You've lived with it for, what, two years now?" He stood and began to make his way towards the dining room.

            "Yeah, but she's never tried to make _puttanesca_ before!"

            Grumbling a little to himself, James stood up from his seat on the couch – after all, a horrible dinner would still be better than none at all. Unfortunately for the both of them, Peter must have at the same idea at the same time...

            _Bang!_ Peter tripped over one of James' outstretched legs, sending the coffee table and the other man to the floor with a loud crash. Peter himself fell over facedown onto the white carpet. The magazines, newspapers, and parchments that had previously been on the table were now scattered all over the living room floor.

            Lily dashed in, still holding a pair of oven mitts. "James, Peter, are you all right?"

            "Ow," Peter moaned. He rubbed his right leg as James stood up and began righting the coffee table.

            Remus strode over and grabbed his friend's elbow, pulling the shorter man up. "You're not hurt, are you?" he asked.

            "Just my dignity," Peter said. Lily helped James shift the table back into its proper position in front of the couch.

            Peter noticed this. "Oh!" he said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. "Here, I'll help you with that." He knelt down and began picking up some of the papers that littered the floor, assisted by Remus. Soon, everything had been put back it's proper place.

            "James, you really are a slob," Remus remarked as he threw a handful of Daily Prophets back onto the table.

            Peter gathered up a sheaf of parchment and stacked them on top of the others that had already been replaced onto the table. "I'm such a klutz," he mumbled.

            Remus slapped him lightly on the back. "Don't worry, Wormtail," he said teasingly. "I'm sure we'll let you forget about it in, oh, say ten years."

            Lily hit Remus playfully on the arm. "Oh, don't say that, it was just as much James' fault." She nudged her husband's leg with her toe.  

            "Let's sit down for that dinner, shall we?" James said cordially, hurriedly changing the subject and gesturing towards the dining room with a sweep of his right arm.

            "Dinner sounds really good right now," Peter said, still nursing his injured shin.

            "Yes, yes," Lily agreed, chuckling. With a wave of her wand, she conjured numerous plates that floated above the dinner table for a few seconds before dropping down with a thud. The four friends sat, Lily and James on one side, the remaining two men on the other.

            "I take it Padfoot won't be joining us?" Remus asked quietly, his expression solemn as his pale blue eyes flickered from across the table.

            With her wand, Lily summoned the cutlery from the kitchen and distributed it amongst the people at the table. Another flick and the dishes that she had prepared the Muggle way came zooming into the room, skidding to a stop in the center of the wooden table.

            "Nah," replied James somberly. "You heard about the business with the Fidelius Charm, right? About Voldemort wanting us dead? Well, Sirius is our Secret-Keeper, and I guess he seemed to think that it would be safer for us if he isolated himself." 

            "Isolated himself?" questioned Remus, raising an eyebrow. "Where?"

            "He's staying in a Muggle house, got a disguise and everything-"

            "And an awfully good disguise it was too, wasn't it, James?" Lily interjected, smirking. 

            James blushed slightly as Peter and Remus looked over at Lily, who was smiling in a very enigmatic manner.

            "Care to explain that remark, Lily?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow at his red-haired friend. 

            James felt his face go even pinker, and suddenly, he was quite glad that Sirius wasn't there to make some mocking comment about the lovely magenta-colored flush that he knew had spread across his skin.

            "Oh yes, quite an interesting story," said Lily smoothly, shooting a very uncharacteristically nasty smile at her blushing husband. "Well, Sirius was here earlier, you see..." 

            And with many embellishments and much waving of the hands, she began telling the story to a very amused Remus and Peter. 

            "So, I'm helping the stupid git put on the shirt," she said animatedly, "when James comes in from the Floo and asks us what we're doing. I've pinned Sirius to the couch and I'm trying to stop him from moving so I can properly button the shirt when James starts having a fit!"

            The aforementioned man seemed to be finding his mashed potatoes awfully appealing at the moment. He picked at them zealously, pretending to be wholly absorbed and not meeting anyone's eyes as Lily continued her story.

            "Well, James keeps yelling at us, and Sirius and I don't know what the hell he's going on about, until he starts asking us who Sirius is. That's when we both realized that James couldn't recognize his own best friend with Muggle clothes and spiked hair, and thought I had been snogging a stranger behind his back!"

            There was a burst of laughter at the table, and James smiled sheepishly.

            Peter sniggered. "Prongs, I can't believe you'd actually be that thick! Seriously, who _else_ would be in your house _other_ than Sirius? Or Remus or me?" he added, shooting a glance at his friend. Remus, however, still had not turned his attention away from James.

            "Where is Sirius staying?" he asked.

            James shrugged, trying not to show his awkwardness at discussing the topic of Sirius and his whereabouts. He had expected that the friendly dinner would help _relieve_ some of the guilt, fear, and anxiety that he felt regarding his best friend; instead, the painful emotions were being magnified. He inhaled sharply. "Some Muggle house, I think. Belongs to his friend's aunt, or something like that."

            Peter swallowed a mouthful of spaghetti, complete with puttanesca sauce. "Are you sure it's safe for Padfoot to be staying in a Muggle neighborhood? It's awfully unprotected, isn't it?"

            "I offered to let him stay here," James said shortly, leaning back in his chair, "but he insisted on leaving. Anyways, he's probably already put up a bunch of wards and anti-Apparation charms on the house, so he should be all right. He'll take care of himself."

            Remus rolled his eyes. "Unless he blows up the house first."

            A smirk appeared on James' face, but in truth, he was quite worried that Remus' statement would actually have some truth to it... it certainly sounded like a very Sirius-like thing to do – his friend had been responsible for much more than his share of bangs and explosions when the two of them had attended school. But as much as he knew about his friend's destructive tendencies, James also knew that Sirius could be a very reliable friend if need be – perhaps more reliable than anyone else he knew. And so he shoved his fears to the back of his mind and allowed the smile on his face to widen.

            "I'm sure Sirius will be fine," James said firmly, sounding more confident than his nerves would allow him to feel. He felt distinctly uncomfortable at the mention of his conspicuously absent best friend, and the topic of Sirius Black was not brought up for the rest of the meal.

            "Well," said Remus lightly, "we ought to be going now, right Wormtail?"

            "Yes, I suppose it is getting rather late, Moony," Peter agreed. "Well, we'll visit again, all right, mate?" he said, looking at James. "And Lily. Take care of yourself."

            "Thanks Peter," Lily replied, nodding solemnly and giving each of her husband's friends a swift hug. "Make sure you do the same for yourself. That goes for you too, Remus."

            "Yes, well. Bye Lily, bye James."

            The four friends murmured their good-byes as Remus and Peter stepped towards the fireplace. Within seconds, they had both gone.

            "Well," James said, still staring into the fire that his friends had just disappeared into. "I suppose I'd better go finish Sirius' letter..."

            Lily Potter only sighed.

            Peter sat at home staring at the blank roll of parchment that lay on the desk in front of him. This was the sort of information he knew would be valuable to his master, very valuable. But yet...

            Something was holding him back. Something was keeping Peter Pettigrew from delivering this information to Voldemort, from giving him the information that Peter knew would be greatly appreciated. The feeling wasn't guilt... guilt was something that Peter had never in his life felt before...

            Fear. The feeling was fear. Peter shuddered at the thought of what would happen to him if anyone ever found out what he was doing, what he was going to do. James would kill him. He knew he couldn't keep the secret forever, but being disemboweled by an angry James Potter was something that he did not want to happen any time soon. 

            Peter fingered the parchment carefully, deep in thought. He drew in a sharp breath. _No point in debating with myself_, he thought quietly, _he'll find out what I know anyways, he knows Legilimency, after all_. _May as well make it now_. He grabbed a quill from the corner of his desk. Trembling, he scrawled a few words at the top of the parchment, his hand quavering as it moved from right to left across the surface of the paper, the ink smearing on his pudgy fingers. Feeling apprehensive, he folded the paper in half and stuffed it into an envelope, which he then labeled 'Master.' Shaking violently, he tied this envelope on to the leg of a small gray owl, who promptly took off and soared into the night sky. 

            Peter watched as the minute form of the small animal faded into the distance.

            Approximately fifty miles away from where Peter lived, a tiny gray owl flew threw a dirty, grimy window and perched itself on the back of a red velvet armchair. Slowly, a hand with unnaturally long fingers reached out and untied the letter from the owl's leg. Hooting, it took off, flying out the same window through which it had entered. The hand's owner stared down at the envelope for a few silent seconds, stared at the word 'Master' written shakily across the front. Then, using the tip of his wand, he slit the letter open and stared at the words that had been scrawled across the piece of folded parchment.

            Slowly, Voldemort's face cracked into an evil grin. 

            "Lucius," he called imperiously, "come here. I require your assistance."

            The figure of a slightly stooped man emerged from the darkness. Lucius Malfoy bowed deeply at Voldemort's feet. 

            "Yes, Master?" he asked respectfully, a painfully obsequious expression on his face.

            Voldemort let the slip of parchment drop lazily to the ground. 

            "See for yourself."

            Hurriedly, Malfoy picked it up and read the information on it. Comprehension dawning on his face, he bowed even lower than before as his cold gray eyes skimmed over the messily scribbled words, and he asked, "Shall I capture him, Master?"

            "You capture him? You? As capable as I believe you to be, Lucius, you must know that this mission is of utmost importance to me. It cannot be – bungled, so to speak. Do not presume that your abilities are sufficient as to single-handledly apprehend the man," Voldemort said, looking amused. "He is foolish but definitely not stupid – there is quite a difference. You will take Bellatrix and Dolohov with you."

            "Yes, my Lord," murmured Malfoy. He gave a deep nod in his master's direction, and then swept away silently, stalking out of the room to find his fellow Death Eaters.

            Chuckling to himself as Malfoy's retreating form grew smaller and smaller, Voldemort redirected his attention to the open envelope, which was still resting on the arm of the chair.

            "My, my, Wormtail," he said, laughing to himself. "I always knew your presence would come in handy sometime, but even I did not ever imagine that you would make yourself this useful. Well done, well done." 

            With a sweep of his arm, he sent the empty envelope fluttering to the floor where it finally came to a rest at the foot of the chair, the dim lighting of the room casting an ominous streak of light across its yellowish-white surface. 

            Voldemort's eyes were alight with anticipation. 

            "Soon, soon," he whispered in a singsong voice to himself. "Soon, I will have you exactly where I want you, and you will tell me everything."

            In a chamber adjourning the room that he had just left, Lucius Malfoy and two other Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange (who was the sister of his wife, Narcissa) and Antonin Dolohov, were gathered around a small table pouring over a map of the Muggle suburbs.

            "How can the Muggles use this bloody thing?" Dolohov complained loudly.

            Lucius fixed his companion with an icy stare.

            "Muggle invention though it may be," he said haughtily, "it is nothing but a simple map. I would it expect it to be within even _your_ capabilites to read it, Dolohov."

            Dolohov sneered in return. "As if _you_ actually know how to use, it, Lucius-"

            Lucius opened his mouth, about to offer a response to the other man's retort, when Bellatrix interrupted.

            "There is no need for your petty arguments," she said coldly, one hand still resting on the open map. 

            Lucius' eyes flickered slightly from Dolohov to his sister-in-law, and then back, but wisely, he said nothing. All three Death Eaters turned back to the map that was unfurled before them, studying the intricate lines of all different colors and the various shapes and symbols that littered its ruled surface.

            "I've found it," Bellatrix's cold voice announced proudly, breaking the silence between the three of them. She pointed to a spot on the map, her sharp fingernail making a tapping sound against the wood of the table. "Here's the road we're looking for."

            The two men both peered over her shoulder to see the area that her finger was gesturing to.

            "Perfect," Lucius said in his characteristic cold drawl. "Then let us go to number six, Chester Lane and pay our dear friend a visit..."

*

**Author's Note**

            Dun dun dun! So, what's going to happen? Will our hero be captured? And how ever did they find his secret hideout? Stay tuned for the next chapter of 'Secret Keeper' by Sophocles to find out!

            Okay, enough corny drama. Sorry for the slight delay in my fairly regular updating schedule – this was one of the hardest chapters to write! I had to literally pick apart what I had already written and modify it to make it more detailed, more consistent, and more interesting. I was adding stuff about every few sentences, separating and rearranging paragraphs, choosing better synonyms for some words, sticking a few lines between some paragraphs... a big headache! And it didn't turn out too great either... too much dialogue, not enough other stuff... (insert depressed sigh here...)

            And for those of you who may be wondering about what a kitchen island is, it's a little counter in the middle of a kitchen (hence the name 'island'), almost like a table, except that it's affixed to the floor and has no legs – kinda hard to describe. I don't know about where you all live, but they're fairly common in southern California; I've got one in my house.

            ALSO – I'm currently working on a short story that touches on the beginnings of the friendship between James and Sirius and am running a bit short on usable characters – anyone want a cameo? Roles go to the first five reviewers who ask – give me a name and a physical description. If it's something too weird or something that I can't incorporate into the story, I'll have to pass you, though. So, yeah, leave the info in a review if you're interested... and I'll let you all know when the story is about to come out...

            Reviewers...

            To Sailor Sol – wow, you really are evil! I don't think _I _could even do that to Sirius, and I'm bad enough as it is (you won't believe me now, but wait until this gets into the later chapters...). But don't worry, I probably won't be reaching Robin's level any time soon... (lol... SiriusTorturer1).

            To Ronja – yes, you are correct; according to the timeline that J.K. Rowling has set up in the Harry Potter series, Regulus Black should have died in 1980 at the age of eighteen or nineteen – he had to have been born at least almost a year after Sirius if he was the younger brother, but I'm assuming that, being a Death Eater, he must have died after graduating Hogwarts, making him at least eighteen. Sirius was either twenty or twenty-one at the time – Rowling said that Snape was about thirty-five years old, and naturally Sirius would be the same age; however, she was not clear on whether he was thirty-five in 1994 [GoF] or 1995 [OotP]. 

            To Potterfan18 – glad you think I'm doing at least an _adequate_ job of portraying Snape... he's a tricky one. If you've got any suggestions about him, I'm completely open (this is my dignified way of begging you for help). Thanks!

            To MPPSexxySiriusRemusJames – that's a 'yes' to your second request but a 'no' to your first...=) Your screen-name is very cute! I noticed how you so very inconspicuously (insert sarcasm here) left the 'W' out of MPP [MWPP] – but I can hardly blame you myself. 

            To MagikalStar135 – thanks for understanding my crazy need to inflict pain on Sirius! (Just kidding.) As for killing him or making him 'lost beyond repair'... well, just be glad I'm not Sailor Sol (she left a review of _her_ suggestion as to what to do to Sirius, lol – you can check it out, it's very cruel...).  

            To heather – thanks! 

            To ChocolateTaco – haha, yeah, that last chapter was the longest one yet... and I think that most of the upcoming chapters will be around the same length... happy? LOL, did the chess thing really make you dizzy? I had to get myself on a serious [Sirius =)] sugar high so that I could write it properly, otherwise my brain probably would have shut itself down from all the paradoxical thinking... hehe...

            To snickerdoodle – wow, thanks! I'm really flattered that you would say that! Of course, good writers come from good readers, so I should probably be thanking all the other fan-fiction authors whose works have been so inspiring as to encourage me to do some of my own work... =)

            Next chapter – more action than is in all of the other chapters so far combined, which includes a nice rooftop duel. Fun, fun, fun! Shouldn't take too long, because most of the chapter is already finished, actually.

*

            _"[You] never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all his power, were you?  You'd want to be quite sure he was the biggest bully in the playground before you went back to him, wouldn't you?" – Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 370_


	7. Chapter Seven: October 30, 1981

**SECRET KEEPER**

CHAPTER SEVEN

_October 30, 1981_

In a chamber adjourning the room that he had just left, Lucius Malfoy and two other Death Eaters, Bellatrix Lestrange (who was the sister of his wife, Narcissa) and Antonin Dolohov, were gathered around a small table pouring over a map of the Muggle suburbs.

            "How can the Muggles use this bloody thing?" Dolohov complained loudly.

            Lucius fixed his companion with an icy stare.

            "Muggle invention though it may be," he said haughtily, "it is nothing but a simple map. I would it expect it to be within even _your_ capabilites to read it, Dolohov."

            Dolohov sneered in return. "As if _you_ actually know how to use, it, Lucius—"

            Lucius opened his mouth, about to offer a response to the other man's retort, when Bellatrix interrupted.

            "There is no need for your petty arguments," she said coldly, one hand still resting on the open map. 

            Lucius' eyes flickered slightly from Dolohov to his sister-in-law, and then back, but wisely, he said nothing. All three Death Eaters turned back to the map that was unfurled before them, studying the intricate lines of all different colors and the various shapes and symbols that littered its ruled surface.

            "I've found it," Bellatrix's cold voice announced proudly, breaking the silence between the three of them. She pointed to a spot on the map, her sharp fingernail making a tapping sound against the wood of the table. "Here's the road we're looking for."

            The two men both peered over her shoulder to see the area that her finger was gesturing to.

            "Perfect," Lucius said in his characteristic cold drawl. "Then let us go to number six, Chester Lane and pay our dear friend a visit..."

            Sirius sighed dejectedly as he gazed at the Muggle clock hanging crookedly from a rusty nail that protruded from the shabbily decorated wall... it was nearly ten thirty at night. The boredom that hung over him was so thick that it was almost suffocating, and Sirius felt himself withdrawing from his physical being and letting his mind explore, wander. What was James doing? What was Lily doing? Had Remus found a job? How did he cope when it came time for his agonizing transformations? What about Peter? Wasn't Peter applying for some job at the Ministry? Had he been accepted? Sirius felt his mind sinking into a vaguely hazy state, what would almost be called a drunken stupor were it not for the fact that he had not touched a single drop of alcohol...

            _And not for lack of trying either,_ Sirius thought to himself wryly. _I sure as hell wouldn't say no to a glass of firewhiskey right now._

He chuckled to himself over his feeble attempt at a joke, a last ditch effort to cheer himself up, but as he thought this, he realized more than ever that it was imperative that he was in his best condition; he couldn't afford to indulge in alcohol, not at a time like this—he had to be alert, on guard, ready to move... or did he? Was he just being paranoid? He tried to remove himself from the dreadful whirlpool that was his thoughts, but try as he might, he could not force himself to look at the situation from a strictly objective standpoint. He knew that he was probably worrying over nothing—after all, who would think to look for him in a place like this? Not even his friends, save Lily and James, would ever deduce that he was here, let alone some washed up Death Eater. And yet, even as he fought to reassure himself, even as he reminded himself—and rightly so—that the odds in this dangerous game were highly in his favor, a small part of him couldn't help but latch onto a sense of foreboding... that something was going to happen, and that it was inevitable. This small part of him that wouldn't let go of the irrational fear told him to run, run far away, but Sirius was too far within himself to move a muscle—he merely sat and thought.

            Acting instinctively, he attempted to brush his bangs out of his face, as he always did when he was feeling worried or restless (or in this case, both), only to realize that this was quite possibly one of the more pointless things he had done lately, as his practically non-existent bangs weren't actually in his face in the first place—he was still sporting the short hairstyle that Lily had given him, albeit without the gel (he never could figure out how to use it). He ran his fingers through his hair—he was quite unused to the length (it was so short!) but had to admit that it was of some convenience not to have his hair always falling into his eyes. Perhaps the short cut was something he could get used to...

            _Great_, he thought sarcastically to himself, interrupting his own train of thought. _I'm now reduced to spending my time thinking about how to style my hair... next thing I know I'll be reading bloody _Witch Weekly... _damn._ It was quite a depressing prospect. Sirius sighed again as he propped his elbows on his thighs and cradled his head in the palms of his hands, wondering where the hell his life had gone so wrong.

            The first time that Lucius, Bellatrix, and Dolohov attempted to Apparate to six Chester Lane was not met with success.

            "Ow," Dolohov exclaimed loudly as the three of them were thrown onto their backs.

            Quickly righting himself, Lucius straightened his disheveled robes and quickly replaced the wince of pain on his face with his usual look of oily smoothness.

            "Anti-Apparition charms," he said shortly, brushing dust off his sleeves. "Would be just like Black to think of something like that."

            "Thank you for stating the obvious, Lucius," Bellatrix said coldly, tucking a strand of shiny dark hair behind her ear. 

            Lucius ignored his sister-in-law's remark and said, with no loss of dignity, "The question is, what are we going to do now?"

            Bellatrix's dark eyes met his in a frigid stare. "It's simple, isn't it?"

            "How so?"

            Bellatrix summoned a rock off the ground with her wand.

            _"Portus."_

Moments later, the three Death Eaters vanished. 

He was bored.

            In fact, he was not only bored, but he was _bored_. He was _very _bored. Besides that, he was also bored, and above and beyond all—he was so _bored!_

            If he had not already lost his sanity (as everyone had always claimed), he was sure as hell losing it now.

            Sirius had always fancied himself as being resourceful and very innovative when it came to finding ways to entertain himself (or was 'destructive' the adjective that he was looking for?). Now, however, he had completely exhausted his mental capacity in trying to keep himself amused. The result—he was dying of boredom.

            It was rather funny—in school, Sirius had never been bored. There had always been teachers to annoy, people to prank, passages to explore, Slytherins to hex (he remembered Snivellus with a fond smile...). When there had been nothing to do, Sirius had always been the expert at _making _something to do. He was wild, he was energetic, he was creative—the 'life of the party', as Lily had often said (James, however, had not been nearly as complimentary: "A chimpanzee with trousers and a wand," he had said in describing his friend, though not without affection). He was not the one who let things happen; he was the one who _made _things happen. In fact, in almost ten years of his life, the word 'bored' had not even been a part of his vocabulary—there had always been a way to turn a lackluster situation into something funny (the one exception to this rule was Binns' History classes—nothing could have _ever_ made those interesting). He suspected that his friendship with James contributed greatly to this; as Minerva McGonagall had once put it, "Where Potter and Black are, chaos and insanity inevitably follow."

            Even chaos and insanity would have been better than the awful monotony of the past few days.

            Sirius had even once resorted to passing the time by making shadow-puppets on his bedroom wall. He had only tried it once—he never tried it again.

            When he had first arrived at six Chester Lane, Sirius had supposed that he would explore every nook and cranny of the house and examine all the gadgets; after all, Muggles were such fascinating people, and so creative as well (how else would they have invented something as remarkable as the motorbike?). He had been sorely disappointed; the house was filled with shelves of boring tomes, old book with titles such as _A Tale of Two Cities _(he had read two pages before slamming the books shut) and _Jane Eyre _(who wanted to read about an orphan girl's miserable childhood? His own pre-Hogwarts past was equally depressing, but a couple hundred times more interesting). Judging by the crispness of the paper and firmness of the binding, he conjectured that the books had never been read before—he scarcely needed to wonder why.

What Sirius Black didn't notice was that three shadowy figures had appeared out of nowhere across the street from the house in which he was currently residing.

            "Stupid fool," Bellatrix snorted, looking at her surroundings with an expression of contempt. "As if anti-Apparition charms could really keep us away... it was all too easy to get here."

            "Your cousin never was a smart one," Lucius agreed, his pale gray eyes sweeping around malevolently as he examined the numbers of each of the houses. He pocketed the Portkey in his robes. "It's that house. Number six."

            He, Bellatrix, and Dolohov stalked quietly towards the front door of a plain, somewhat washed out looking house.

            "Just like Black to choose to live in an old Muggle place like this," Bellatrix sneered.

            Dolohov glanced over at his companion with amusement. "I find it so interesting that you address your own cousin by his surname."

            "You would too if you had _that_ for a cousin."

            Lucius recalled Sirius Black as a boy: incredibly unmannered, extremely big-headed, terribly annoying—a blood-traitor who had no proper wizarding pride. Looking at the boy, it would have been hard to believe that he was even a pureblood, let alone a Black.

            "Your aunt must have been devastated with him," Lucius commented.

            Bellatrix rolled her eyes.

            "There never was a day gone by when my aunt and uncle _wouldn't_ complain about _him_." She wrapped her hand around the doorknob. "How he was ruining the family name, consorting with Mudbloods, letting his plethora of _talents_ go to waste..."

            She yanked on the door.

            "It's locked."

            "Allow me," Lucius interjected smoothly. _"Alohomora!"_

Nothing happened.

Bellatrix glanced disdainfully at her brother-in-law. "If he thought of anti-Apparition charms he obviously thought of _that_," she sniffed. "You'll have to break it open by force."

            Lucius raised his wand...

            _BANG!_

            Sirius sat up with a jolt, jerking out of his reverie as he heard a loud splintering noise issuing from downstairs. It was undeniably the sound of a door being forced open. Nimbly, he dashed out of the room, and into the hallway, careful to keep his footsteps silent as he peered down the stairwell. Three figures clad in black robes and donning white masks were walking through his doorway, wands drawn and held in front of their faces in an ominous manner.

            Death Eaters.

            _Oh Merlin!_ Sirius thought desperately. _How had the Death Eaters managed to find him here, _here _of all places?_ Not that it mattered too much now. Now, the only thing that mattered was getting out of the house. Preferably alive.

            He looked around, his eyes quickly darting from side to side as he scoped out his situation. There was nowhere to go, no exits save the door through which the Death Eaters had entered. He silently cursed himself for putting anti-Apparition charms on the house—_what the hell was I thinking?_ For a moment, he wondered if he could make it to the fireplace and escape by Floo—he had brought some powder with him—but his hopes were dashed as he realized that the Muggle house wasn't connected to the Floo network. Frustration rising inside him, he bit down on his tongue in order to refrain from cursing aloud, as was his natural instinct. He wasn't exactly an advocator of clean language (as his friends knew all too well), but it wouldn't do for the Death Eaters to hear him, not yet. He knew he was stuck, trapped, but as long as the Death Eaters didn't know exactly where he was, he still had the element of surprise on his side. _Not that it'll help much._

            He peered down again. The three Death Eaters had already begun to climb up the stairs. Sirius scowled. Damn. They were coming closer and closer, and as good of a dueler as he was, he had some doubts that his skills were sufficient to take out three Death Eaters at once. His heart began to beat faster as the sound of the impending footsteps grew louder and louder. A wave of panic washed over him, and he felt the muscles in his arms and legs tighten. _Where to go, where to go... _Time seemed to be coming to a stop. It appeared as though he were left with only one option...

            Quickly, he darted back into his makeshift bedroom. He dashed over to the window and with a swift thrust of his right leg, kicked it open, ignoring the shards of glass that rained down on him and cut into his skin as the pane shattered.

            "What was _that?_" he heard one of the Death Eaters ask in a voice that was undoubtedly Lucius Malfoy's.

            "It was Black!" a female voice shrieked. 

            Sirius groaned. The last person he needed to see right now was his Death Eater-cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black, and one of the few he'd encountered that could ever best him in a duel. 

            The Death Eaters were now in the hallway and making their way towards Sirius' room. Sirius placed one hand on each side of the window and hoisted himself up, trying not to wince as some of the remaining glass fragments pierced the tender skin on the palms of his hands. He felt an odd constriction in his throat as he stood in the windowsill. As a young child, he had always had a strange habit of liking to stand in open windows—a habit that had always unnerved anyone who witnessed it. He didn't feel he was any different from those who enjoyed climbing trees—he liked the feel of the open air moving across his body, and the strange sense of liberation that it seemed to give him. But now was different; now was a matter of life and death, and he could not shake the heavy sensation of apprehension that draped itself over his shoulders. He looked out onto the slanting roof of the house and wondered if his balance was good enough to walk across it, jump off, run to the next house, and Apparate. _I'll just have to find out the hard way._ Gingerly, he placed one foot out in front of him and took a step forward. One wrong move and he would fall. 

            "He's climbing out the window!" shouted a male voice that Sirius didn't recognize.

            "Yes, I realize that, Dolohov!" Malfoy hissed coldly. "And it's our job to make sure he doesn't escape that way!"

            Sirius' shoulders tensed slightly as he heard this. Struggling to keep his balance, he tottered forward, determined to make it. _If I can just get to the next house,_ he thought, _I can Apparate on out of here._ Feeling slightly more panicked now, Sirius began to move faster, his legs wobbling slightly as one of the shingles came loose under his left foot. _Can't let them get me._

            Malfoy, Bellatrix, and the man named Dolohov followed Sirius onto the roof.

            "Give it up, Black!" Malfoy snarled, pointing his wand at the other man as he steadied himself with his other hand, grasping one of the top shingles of the sloping roof. 

            "_Crucio!_"

            Sirius fought the instinct to roll his eyes. The man was entirely too predictable. Grasping part of the roof with his right hand in order to keep his balance, Sirius ducked as Malfoy's curse went whizzing by his shoulder, grazing the sleeve of his shirt and tearing a small gash into it. He rolled over slightly, his firm grip never leaving the roof as he shifted on his other side and reached for his wand in his back pocket with his left hand. His fingers curled around the handle, but before he could completely draw his wand from the pocket, he was forced to duck in order to avoid a Cruciatus curse from Dolohov.

            He stumbled slightly as he lowered himself, skinning his knee and tearing a hole in his pants. Wincing, he whipped his wand out in front of him and sent a hex flying at the Death Eater who had tried to curse him—his aim was true.

            "Ahh!" Dolohov yelled as he staggered backwards in pain, but he didn't fall. Sirius barely had time to smirk triumphantly when Malfoy and Bellatrix both tried to curse him simultaneously. Nimbly, he moved to one side and could hear loud cracking noises as both missed spells hit a tree off in the distance. He tried not to remind himself that that could have been him as he brandished his wand.

            _"Stupefy!" _

            He aimed his Stunning Spell so that if Malfoy dodged it, it would hit Bellatrix instead—to his delight and slight surprise, the tactic worked, and he watched as his cousin's body crumpled and went stiff. _One down, two to go, _he thought to himself, but he was sadly mistaken—even as he prepared to curse the other two Death Eaters, Malfoy had pulled Bellatrix's body into an upright position and-

            _"Ennervate!"_

His head swiveling at the sound of the shouted spell, Sirius shot a couple of nasty hexes at Dolohov, groaning as he noticed that his stricken cousin had regained consciousness. Thinking quickly, he aimed his wand towards where both Malfoy and Bellatrix were standing side by side, intending to try to hit both of them at once, but before he could-

            _"Impedimenta!" _

Dolohov's caucus voice rang through the air as he shot an Impediment Jinx at Sirius, who then raised his wand and cast the only spell he could think of.

            _"Protego!" _

            It wasn't really a very effective Shield Charm, but was better than nothing at all—he managed to avoid the brunt of the spell. He felt a sweeping gust of wind blow past the front of his body as the charm worked to deflect the spell. A small amount of impact hit him in the chest, winding him slightly and forcing him to stagger back a few steps, but he quickly recovered and steadied himself. He raised his wand arm again, prepared to fire more spells at the three Death Eaters. He had barely managed to choke out the incantation to a Stunning Spell, however, when Malfoy and Dolohov simultaneously shot Imperius Curses at him. Dodging, he quickly threw himself down, his right hip and knee grazing painfully on the wooden roof. He flung his arms out to steady himself and felt his fists make contact with the shingles on either side of him, a couple of splinters piercing into his skin. He craned his head slightly to the right trying to assess the amount of damage done to his hip, but this turned out to be a deadly mistake, because-

            _"Incendio!"_

Bellatrix shot a stream of flames towards Sirius' left hand, which was still curled into a fist around his wand. Gasping in pain as the fire grazed his skin, he reflexively loosened his fingers, causing his wand to fall from his grip and roll down the angled roof, clanging as it hit the wooden shingles on its way towards the ground.

            _Shit. Holy shit. _He swore very colorfully and creatively as he mentally berated himself for his stupidity. He was stuck on the roof of a Muggle house, barely able to stand up straight for fear of falling. He had three Death Eaters after him, numerous cuts and scratches over his skin, and a small burn on his left hand—and now to make matters worse, he was wand-less. If Lily could have heard the language he was using he would have been in very, very deep trouble, indeed.

            _Not that I'm not already in deep trouble,_ Sirius grumbled to himself as he dodged another Cruciatus Curse and two Stunning Spells, twisting his right ankle in the process. Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out in pain, he staggered slightly, but recovered, forcing his legs to carry him forward, toward the next house. He felt another wave of read hot pain shoot through his entire right side and up to the aching bone in his hip, which he was now fairly sure was dislocated. He was closer now—a few more feet and he would be able to leap over to the next rooftop and Apparate.

            He took a few more bumbling steps towards the edge of the roof, narrowly avoiding being hit by a Stunning Spell and an Impediment Jinx. 

            "Trying to run away, are you, dear cousin?" Bellatrix's taunting voice floated towards him. "Don't delude yourself into thinking that you'll actually make it—but then again, you _are _pretty experienced in running away, aren't you? It's nothing that you haven't done before—just like the wimp that you are."

            He knew that she was alluding to his leaving home when he was sixteen, and though he was quite proud of the fact, her reference to such a sensitive matter stung him more deeply than he was willing to admit—not because he in any way regretted leaving his family, but because she had used it to accuse him of bearing the one trait that she knew he hated most: cowardice. 

            "Fuck off, Bella," he shot back for lack of anything better to say; his shoulders tensed as his twisted ankle crumpled, and he sank into a partial collapse, further agitating his other injuries. His fingers were turning white from gripping the shingles of the roof in order to keep from falling off. Straining his arm muscles, he pulled himself into a standing position, but immediately realized that this was another bad mistake—his posture left his body vulnerable to attack, and without a wand, he could not defend himself against hexes that would be flung his way.

            "Oooh, nice language you're using there, _Sirius_," Bellatrix sang mockingly as she raised her wand again. "Surely that isn't something you've picked up from all those Mudbloods and blood traitors you've been associating with?"

            "I would rather associate with Muggle-borns and decent people than with the likes of _you_."

            Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Clearly, our ideas of what makes a person 'decent' are very different, wouldn't you say?"

            "Like hell I would."

            "You always were a blind fool—even when you were young."

            "At least I'm not the one with my head shoved up my ass," Sirius retorted as he straightened and moved slightly to the right in order to avoid a Stunning Spell, but he had no sooner pulled himself upright before a jet of red light shot out from the end of Malfoy's wand, and Sirius had to bend over backward in order to avoid it... but as he did so he was forced to shift his weight onto his injured right foot... his hip ached in complaint, screaming in its socket... he felt his leg buckle in pain... his foot slipped out from under him... his back arched, almost painfully... he heard his cousin's triumphant shriek, heard Dolohov's shout of mirth... he saw Lucius Malfoy pull something out from inside his robes... a rock?

            Sirius tumbled off the roof of number six, Chester Lane.

            His body never hit the ground. 

*

            _"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it... I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak talentless thing like you... It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."—Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 369_


	8. Chapter Eight: October 31, 1981

**SECRET KEEPER**

CHAPTER EIGHT

_October 31, 1981_

The sun rose early over Godric's Hollow, and with it, so did Lily Potter. Taking care not to wake James, who was still sleeping soundly, she quietly slipped out of bed, and, pulling on a thin sweater, stole down the stairs and into the kitchen.

            She was strangely restless; that night's sleep had not been a good one, and she had been left feeling anxious and frazzled. She tiredly brushed some of her dark red hair out of her face as she sat down at the kitchen table with a mug full of black coffee. She generally did not indulge in the beverage (she tried to leave the caffeine-overdosing to her husband and his hyperactive friends), but this morning, she needed a 'perk-me-up', so to speak—and so she found herself with her elbows propped up on the table and a cup full of the bitter liquid in front of her. 

            _It's so odd,_ she surmised, taking another sip of her drink. _Five years ago, I never would have imagined that I would be where I am today..._

It seemed like only yesterday that she was sixteen, studying for her OWLS, gossiping with her friends, and trying to ignore that arrogant prat Potter (she giggled, thinking of the said prat who was snoring soundly upstairs). Life had been so simple—everything had fit into the equation perfectly. Sure, she had had her own share of petty troubles and such (she scowled, remembering Petunia, whom she hadn't talked to in years), but for the most part, her day-by-day routine hadn't really suffered much change—it was always 'so-and-so' was going out with 'so-and-so', James Potter was _so _annoying, 'so-and-so' professor had suspended 'so-and-so', Sirius Black's swarming fan-club had gotten even larger, and James Potter was _so _annoying. Then, she had fallen in love with the aforementioned James Potter, and her life had upgraded itself from 'my-autobiography-could-put-a-cow-to-sleep' to some sort of incredibly Austen-esque fairy tale (she smiled at the unconscious allusion to Muggle literature—it was something she had not forsaken with her transition into the wizarding world). After graduation, it seemed as if everything had just fallen together for her—she and James had grown closer, she and James had fallen even more in love (though, according to their friends, that was impossible), James had proposed to her... she said yes... they had gotten married... they had had Harry. Oh, it had all seemed _so _complex back then, when the world had been nothing but her little bubble and the select few that she allowed into it, but now! Now was turmoil, now was confusion, now was stress and anxiety and unpredictability! Now that she reflected back on her past life, she finally realized what a _small _person she was, what a small life she had led...

            _Small, but content,_ she mused to herself. _Oh, what wouldn't I give to feel that small again...?_

Snape tried not to let his weariness show as he knelt between Christopher Crabbe and Rabastan Lestrange, waiting for the appearance of the Dark Lord. They had all received early morning summons (Snape gritted his teeth, thinking of the pain of his left forearm); while the Dark Lord was known for liking efficiency and promptness, he had never before called his Death Eaters to him at this hour. Most Death Eater meetings took place in the late afternoon or evening so that those who had not openly revealed themselves as Death Eaters would not be placed under suspicion; now, however, it was approximately two hours after sunrise, a most unusual time for the Dark Lord's followers to gather. Apparently, Snape was not the only one who was not expecting the morning meeting—he noticed a thin straight-backed wizard who wasn't donning a complete set of Death Eater apparel; the man had worn a mask, so that his face was hidden, but his plainly-cut gray robes told Snape that this man had obviously dressed thinking to prepare for his day job, not a Death Eater revel. 

            There were a few more popping noises in the air as a few stragglers Apparated in; then, there was silence, but Snape noticed that there were still holes in the circle—who was missing? He mentally scanned the ranks of Death Eaters—those present and those who ought to have been present—and bit his lower lip in silent contemplation. Who was gone? Antonin Dolohov should have been standing to the other side of Rabastan Lestrange; the spot, however, was empty. A few more seconds of deliberation revealed that Lucius Malfoy, too, was gone—_strange, Malfoy is usually one of the most prompt... doesn't like to suffer the Dark Lord's displeasure_. And who else? One last empty space... to the left of Rodolphus Lestrange...

            Snape's facial expression did not change but surprise echoed through his mind...

            _If I've ever known Bellatrix Lestrange to not answer a summons, I'll befriend James Potter._

Something was definitely going on. And he didn't like it at all.

            Suddenly, a sudden hush fell over the congregation of Death Eaters, and though he did not look up, Snape knew instinctively what had happened; the eerie tingle that crept through his spine and the cold chill in his fingers signaled the arrival of the Dark Lord. Glancing for a moment at his tightly clenched knuckles, he noticed that they had turned white.

            The Dark Lord's tall, shadowy form seemed even more formidable than usual as the red-eyed man stalked slowly towards the kneeling circle. His cold gaze swept scornfully around the room, searching into the faces of each and every one of the bent figures, who dared not look up. Snape could make out three slightly obscure figures standing a bit to the Dark Lord's left, whom he concluded had to be the conspicuously absent Malfoy, Dolohov, and Bellatrix Lestrange, though the lighting was too poor for him to observe any distinguishing features. The thinnest one standing on the far right had to be Bellatrix, but the two men he could not establish between; he did notice, however, that one of them appeared to be carrying... something. Snape squinted, trying to make out a clearer picture of the scene before him, but he dared not move his head or raise his gaze, lest he attract the attention of the Dark Lord or any of the other Death Eaters. 

            He thought he heard a slight whimper in the background as the Dark Lord approached one of the kneeling Death Eaters, a rather small man, who stood up hastily as his master beckoned to him with a wave of the hand. The Dark Lord whispered something into his servant's ear, and Snape leaned forward as much as possible, straining to hear as much of the conversation as he could. The Dark Lord, however, was carefully quiet; Snape couldn't discern a word of what was said, but did, however, catch a few whispers of the small man's nervously mumbled reply:

            "—can't t-track us... department destroyed P-portkey records... Lafalla—I think—"

            The Dark Lord gave a sharp nod, apparently satisfied with whatever he had just heard. Snape quickly bowed his head even lower than before, afraid that someone would notice his unusual activity. However, no one did; the Dark Lord kept walking at his carefully controlled pace as he gestured for another Death Eater to stand up. The three hidden figures—presumably Malfoy, Dolohov, and Bellatrix—remained unmoving in the shadows.

            "All is going as planned, Rookwood?" the Dark Lord asked, addressing the gray-robed man whom Snape had observed earlier.

            _Rookwood! _Snape practically shouted to himself, all while keeping a falsely stony expression across his features. _The Unspeakable! A spy for the Dark Lord?!_

He could scarcely believe it. Augustus Rookwood, spying for the Dark side? His keenly critical eye noted Rookwood's straight, stiff-backed posture and lean build... could this be the man—the spy—whom he had observed just the other day? Snape could almost feel the blood rushing to his ears in his effort to pick up on the conversation.

            The man in the crisp gray robes—Rookwood—lowered his head respectfully.

            "Yes, m'lord," he murmered reverently. Though he was not speaking loudly, he had not troubled to keep his voice down. "It is set."

            "Good." The Dark Lord gave a sharp nod of approval in Rookwood's direction before taking a few stalking steps into the middle of the circle. Rookwood and the small man sank bank into their kneeling positions. The three Death Eaters in the background also took a few steps forward, as if on cue, and now, the room's dim lighting streaking across their faces, Snape could immediately see that his guesswork and deduction had been correct—the figures had indeed been Bellatrix, Dolohov, and Malfoy.

            "Rise," the tall, red-eyed man hissed in his quiet, yet deadly, voice. 

            There was a shuffling of robes and a scrambling of feet as the Death Eaters hurried to obey the order. Dolohov, too, had slunk back into the circle, but Malfoy and Bellatrix appeared to be shifting something around. They alternated between muttering between themselves, throwing occasional looks at the Dark Lord and the circle, and glancing towards the area around their feet. Snape bit the inside of his lower lip, trying to observe their actions without making his intentions blatantly obvious, which was difficult, as all in the room was shadowed by a thick veil of darkness. He mentally cursed the Dark Lord for not having proper windows installed in the dim, shady room.

            The Dark Lord surveyed the group a few seconds before speaking.

            "My friends..." he whispered slowly. "My comrades..."

            There was a hum of anticipation around the circle. 

            "Perhaps you are wondering," he murmured softly, a sort of quiet drama in his cold, high voice. "You wonder why I have summoned you here so early, at such an unusual time... you wonder why I have deviated from our established routin, why I have disrupted your schedules... I understand that some of you" —he glanced at Rookwood— "may have had to... _compromise_ certain aspects of your agenda to arrive here now."

            Another buzz of whispering spread amongst the Death Eaters. The Dark Lord raised his hand to silence them. Snape's hands clenched even more tightly than before.

            "We are all gathered here this morning for one reason, and for the same reason. You are all here now to witness the first step towards my victory against Albus Dumbledore. Today is a milestone. Today marks the beginning..." 

            Now, there were a lot of questioning murmurs; Snape himself barely had time to register the meaning behind the words when the Dark Lord spoke again.

            "Observe," the red-eyed man said simply as he gestured to Malfoy and Bellatrix. Stepping forward, they dumped whatever they had been holding unceremoniously onto the floor in front of Voldemort's feet, and now there was no need for Snape to strain; he got quite an eyeful of what—or rather _who_—had been the reason behind the Dark Lord's early morning activity.

            His mouth dropped open in shock and horror as he recognized the figure that lay sprawled, unconscious, on the floor.

            The first thought that fluttered back into his head was _'Write to Dumbledore!'_

Stepping back into the shadows and praying that he wasn't noticed, Severus Snape quietly Disapparated away from the circle of Death Eaters.

"Hey."

            Startled out of her distant train of thought, Lily looked up, only to see a very sleepy-looking James standing the doorway. He was still in his pajamas, and his jet-black hair was messier than ever as he blinked a few times, his eyes obviously adjusting to the change in lighting. He wrinkled his nose slightly before putting on his glasses.

            "James! What are you doing up?" It was less of a question and more of an opening for conversation.

            "I could ask you the same question," he said, an amused look crossing his face, which was looking slightly paler than usual in the dim light of the early morning. "I woke up and noticed you weren't there. Everything all right?"

            "Yeah," she sighed, folding her hands prettily under her chin. "Just woke up and couldn't fall asleep again." To put it simply. 

            James' eyes traveled over to the table and the cup in front of her. 

            "You're drinking coffee," he noted wryly, a tone of slight surprise in his voice.

            "Yeah. So?" 

            "You never drink coffee, Lily."

            _What a keen observation, _Lily thought wryly to herself, though she was amused with her husband's matter-of-fact frankness. Aloud, she said:

            "There's got to be a first for everything, hasn't there? Besides, would you rather I drank whiskey or something?"

            "Point taken." He slid into the seat across from her, grabbing a newspaper off the counter as he went. "When is this from?"

            "Today, I think," Lily replied, sipping her coffee slowly. It left a slightly bitter taste on the tip of her tongue, one that she did not enjoy, but its effects were very soothing on her nerves. "Arrived by owl post this morning. You read it. I'll make some toast for us." 

            She arose and busied herself about the kitchen, fetching a bit of bread and a platter of butter. She enjoyed the feeling of familiarity in the kitchen, of knowing where everything was, the covert contents of each drawer and cabinet. When she had agreed to marry James, she had vowed never to become one of the trophy-wife housekeeper sort, but she had to admit that occasionally, she did enjoy sporting the crown of domestic godliness.

            "Thanks, dear," said James gratefully. He reached across the table and sampled some of his wife's coffee. "Blech! No sugar! How do you drink this stuff?"

            "Just because you feel the need to add cupfuls of sugar to whatever you eat doesn't mean I do too, dear," Lily replied in a somewhat vague tone of voice as she began slicing toast. 

            "No sane person could drink this stuff without adding cream or sugar, or both," James told his wife pointedly.

            "I happen to know for a fact that Sirius drinks black coffee every morning." 

            "I said _sane_ person, Lily."

            "Point taken," she conceded, reiterating her husband's phrase from earlier. She placed the sliced toast on two plates and spread liberal amounts of butter over her own. 

            "Butter, James?"

            "Yes, please."

            She buttered up the other slice of toast; then, with a casual wave of her wand, sent one of the two plates flying over to the kitchen table, where James was still absorbed in the _Daily Prophet_. James watched with a raised eyebrow as his toast skidded to a stop on the table with a loud scudding sound.

            "Thanks," he said, taking a large bite. "Take a seat, would you?"

            Lily, her own plate in tow, sat and glanced over at her husband; as she did so, something on the page he was reading caught her eye…

            "James," she said. "Let me see that paper."

            "Huh?" James blinked, a small crumb of toast hanging off the corner of his mouth.

            "I want to see something," Lily repeated impatiently. "Give me that page... no, not that one, _that _one... yeah…"

            James looked slightly bewildered as Lily quickly read the article to herself.

                        **EMPLOYEE AUGUSTUS ROOKWOOD SHOCKS**

**                        MINISTRY BY ANNOUNCING MARRIAGE**

                        _Yesterday morning in an unprecedented move, Depart-_

                        _ment of Mysteries employee Augustus Rookwood surprised_

                        _his entire department by announcing his forthcoming marriage_

                        _to Katarina Sorenson. Never before has a worker in the highly_

                        _surreptitious Dept. of Mysteries ever married_—_while not in_

                        _violation of any department policies, it is considered highly_

                        _unusual and is generally frowned upon._

                        _            "It's outrageous," remarked Broderick Bode, a cowor-_

                        _ker of Rookwood's. "When one is working in a department as_

                        _important as the Dept. of Mysteries, they cannot afford to put_

                        _department confidentiality at risk for the sake of their love life._

                        _This marriage of Rookwood's is ridiculous; if I were his boss,_

                        _I would be expecting his resignation any day now."_

            "Hmmm." Lily subconsciously furrowed her brow in concentration.

            "What is it?" James questioned, abandoning his own reading and looking at his wife curiously.

            "Katarina Sorenson... " There was a strange familiarity about the name... something stirred thickly in Lily's memory... of course! "Isn't Sorenson the name of Peter's boss?"

            A light thud could be heard as James dropped his toast back onto the plate. 

            "Sorenson... where does it mention that?" he asked with raised eyebrows, straining his neck to read the article upside-down.

            "It's the surname of the girl that Augustus Rookwood's marrying," replied Lily. "Her name is Katarina Sorenson."

            "Katarina? You're right—Peter's boss is her father. Eugene Sorenson... interesting..." James murmured.

            "Didn't you say yesterday that you'd heard of him?" Lily asked, glancing up at her husband. "How d'you know him?"

            "Sorenson is a friend of Sirius' dad," James said darkly. "And from what I know, anyone who's in that crowd isn't good news."

            Lily chewed pensively on another piece of toast. "Well, you can't be _that _prejudiced, James," she said flatly. "After all, Sirius was raised by people in what you call 'that crowd', and he turned out perfectly fine."

            James snickered, but said nothing. 

            Lily sighed, realizing that if there was any word to describe her husband's eccentric best friend, 'fine' was not one of them. 

            "Okay, okay, bad example," she added quickly. "But just because someone's family is associated with the Dark side doesn't make them _evil_."

            "I know that... but I still wouldn't put anything past them."

            Lily shrugged her shoulders in defeat. "It's still strange though," she said. "Isn't it true that most marriages in those old pureblood families are arranged?"

            "Yeah, so?"

            "If the Sorensons are friends of the Blacks, as you say, then I think it's safe to assume that Katarina Sorenson and Augustus Rookwood _aren't_ in love, and that their marriage was arranged in the traditional way... but if that's true, why would Augustus Rookwood agree to enter a marriage that would put his career into jeopardy, if it had no other benefit to him?"

            "You're right," James said slowly. "It does seem odd, doesn't it? Neither the Sorensons nor the Rookwoods are exactly rich, so neither side can be in this for just the money... but Eugene Sorenson doesn't exactly seem the type to let his daughter marry for love... he'd want her to make a rich a match as possible..."

            Lily shrugged again. "I'll never understand how these pureblood families work... ridiculous, how conservative some of them are."

            "I agree," James said. "My family never did hold with that etiquette rubbish, ourselves."

            "Hmm," Lily murmured in agreement, glancing back down at the newspaper in her hands. She was just about to cast it aside in exchange for another bite of toast and butter, when—

            "Wait!" James interjected. "Let me see that!"

            "What, this?" Lily asked, waving the newspaper in her hand. "You want to read the article again?"

            "No, on the back... there, give me the page."

            Handing over the page to James, Lily examined her husband curiously as he took the newspaper, flipped it over, and quickly began reading aloud in hushed and dramatic tones.

                        **DISTURBANCE IN MUGGLE NEIGHBORHOOD—**

**                        IMPROPER USE OF MAGIC OFFICE CALLED TO**

**                        INVESTIGATE**

                        _            Last night, the Ministry of Magic issued a statement_

                        _informing the public that it is doing its best to investigate a_

                        _mysterious magical disturbance at an undisclosed area in _

                        _Muggle England._

                        _            At approximately eleven o'clock PM yesterday, sev-_

                        _eral Muggles reported sighting of "bright, flashing beams of_

                        _light" and "people disappearing into thin air" to their local_

                        _law enforcers, called "policemen". Word of the "phenome-_

                        _non" reached the ears of the Muggle Prime Minister, who_

                        _prompty alerted Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold. Mem-_

                        _bers of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, inclu-_

                        _ding Obliviators, were immediately dispatched to the scene _

                        _of the magical activity. Upon arrival, they discovered no _

                        _traces of the presence of any wizards, save a wand, which has_

                        _been taken to Mr. Ollivander, expert wandmaker, for identifi-_

                        _cation._

                        _            Ministry workers questioned Muggle witnesses about_

                        _the incident, modifying their memories later. Details have not_

                        _been disclosed to the public at this time; however, it has been _

                        _confirmed by the Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement that no_

                        _less than four witches or wizards used magic in violation of _

                        _the International Statute of Secrecy, and then disappeared._

                        _            Members of the Improper Use of Magic Office later_

                        _called in to investigate state that the perpetrators escaped via _

                        _use of illegal Portkey; however, the Dept. of Magical Trans-_

                        _portation claims that this is not true._

                        _            "The department carefully regulations all traveling by _

                        _magical means, including Apparition, Floo, and use of Port-_

                        _keys, and there were no irregular occurrences as of yesterday," _

                        _said intern Peter Pettigrew (21), speaking on behalf of depart-_

                        _ment head Eugene Sorenson, who was unavailable for com-_

                        _ment. "There is no way the department could trace the loca-_

                        _tion of the violators; they must have escaped by non-magical _

                        _means."_

                        _            The Ministry urges anyone with potentially useful in-_

                        _formation to please come forward. "It is of utmost importance_

                        _to the security of the magical community that we discover _

                        _who has done this," said Bartemius Crouch, head of the Dept. _

                        _of Magical Law Enforcement. "The matter may seem trivial _

                        _to some, but it is imperative that we apprehend all threats to _

                        _the secretive status of our society. There is also the possibility _

                        _that the perpetrators could be Death Eaters_—_if so, it is cru-_

                        _cial that they be brought to justice."_

Albus Dumbledore's face was grim as he sat alone in his office, the morning's copy of the _Daily Prophet _lying open on the desk in front of him. He knew, of course, everything that had happened—he had known it before he had even read the article, before he had even opened the newspaper whose contents were now sprawled out in front him. He knew everything that had transpired that morning and the evening before, even more so than what was reported in the paper or to the employees of the Ministry. He knew all this, and more, but yet, he was still puzzled.

            He was puzzled because something was not right.

            It just didn't make sense. It should have, but it just _didn't_. Not in the slightest. Not at all.

It was really only a matter of two questions, he supposed. Two questions that were so simple, but so _important_... there was a lot that depended on the answers to those two questions...

            _Had Sirius Black betrayed the Order?_

He fiddled with the curled edge of the _Daily Prophet_.

            _And if Sirius hadn't, than who had?_

It was these two questions that created all the other ones that were currently swarming around in Dumbledore's mind. It was all so confusing. 

            He was beginning to more and more doubt that Sirius had betrayed the Order... after all, if Sirius _had_ turned to the Dark side (which was quite an abstract thought in itself, despite what Severus had said earlier), then by all rights, the Potters should have died days ago. The fact that they were still alive and well (or as well as one could be under self-imposed house arrest) meant that Voldemort still could not find them—because Dumbledore was sure that the Dark Lord would not delay his attack for a moment if he was sure that he would be able to enter the Potters' home at Godric's Hollow. 

            But then again, it could all be a ploy, designed to hide the traitor's true identity until it was too late. Dumbledore hated having such suspicions about a former pupil, especially one who claimed to be so passionately against the Dark arts—but Sirius' background _did _speak against him, and with talents and his closeness to many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, the Hogwarts headmaster was sure that Sirius would be considered by Voldemort as a potentially ideal spy... not to mention what Severus had reported... and so Dumbledore's qualms weren't _entirely _unfounded, not by a long shot anyways. 

            But he knew it would hurt—badly—if he accused Sirius of being involved with the Dark side and it turned out that the man was completely innocent—especially considering what Sirius had gone through at home, his childhood...

            But if not Sirius, then who?

            That question was even harder to answer than the first.

            The fact that made the matter even more complicated was contained in the letter that Mr. Ollivander had sent to him this morning. It was not long; it did not need to be. The notes consisted of only six words; those six words told him all that he needed to know—for the moment, anyways.

            _'The wand belongs to Sirius Black.'_

            Dumbledore had had mixed reactions upon seeing this letter. His first thought was one of relief—Sirius had not turned traitor after all. This was proof. His second thought was one of doubt and fear—Sirius _had_ betrayed them, and had been passing news of the Order and the Potters to Voldemort. One deep breath later, he managed to convince himself that this was an irrational conclusion. If Sirius _had_ turned traitor, why bother staging his kidnapping? Why bother drawing unnecessary Ministry—and Order—attention on a man who was trying to keep his double-agent role as secretive as possible? The idea was completely illogical. Another hypothesis was that last night's activities were not a kidnapping at all—perhaps Sirius had willingly left with the Death Eaters. But this didn't make sense either, and again the doubts were the same: why would they attract so much attention to someone who wanted his identity to remain hidden? And if Sirius had meant to leave his place of hiding, why would he have done so through the _roof,_ of all places? Breaking a window in the process? It didn't make sense.

            And, thus, the two questions.

            The identity of their betrayer was already limited to a very small amount of people. It was an Order member—that was stating the obvious. Severus had reported that he had witnessed two spies, at least one of whom he suspected to be working for the Ministry—could one of them have been the same man whom had betrayed the Order of the Phoenix? He was almost a hundred percent positive that it was a man; from Severus' accounts and his own experience, he knew that very few Death Eaters were women—in fact, the only woman in Voldemort's 'inner circle' was Bellatrix Lestrange. Also, because of the nature of the information given to Voldemort, Dumbledore had also suspected that the spy had been a friend of the Potters—now, with today's news, this was almost confirmed.

            And whomever it was had known where Sirius Black had been hiding.

            The only people who should have known that were Dumbledore, Lily and James Potter, and Sirius Black himself.

            Lily and James would have no reason to want anyone to know where their Secret-Keeper was; if Sirius were indeed loyal to the Order (Dumbledore was becoming more and more confident on this by the moment), there would be no reason for him to want to turn _himself_ over to Voldemort. It was very unlikely that either the Dark Lord or the Death Eaters would have been able to find Sirius through plain trial and error; Sirius was much cleverer than that, and besides, the neighborhood that he had situated himself in was obscure, even by Muggle standards.

            So how? How did they find him? How did the traitor know?

            Ordinarily, the two most logical guesses would be Remus Lupin or Peter Pettigrew, Order members and mutual friends of both James Potter and Sirius Black, but Dumbledore felt fairly sure that James, no matter how much he trusted them, would _not _have told Remus or Peter where Sirius was hiding. James would never do anything that even stood a chance of endangering the life of his best friend—that much Dumbledore knew. Especially if the aforementioned 'anything' would also endanger his own life, his wife's, and that of his one year-old child. But if James and Lily were the only other two people who knew of Sirius' location, how had anyone else found out? How had _Voldemort _found out?

            There was no plausible explanation, and this was what worried Dumbledore the most. He stroked his long silver beard contemplatively.

            He was just about to set the letter and newspaper aside, when a small brown owl came flying in through his office window. It usually wouldn't have attracted his attention at all (after all, as the headmaster of Hogwarts, there were many demands on his time, and many people owled him with messages), but he knew he recognized the tidy yet painfully compact writing on the front of the envelope as that of Severus Snape. Calmly, but with a small amount of trepidation, he plucked the letter from the owl's grasp and carefully slit open the parchment.

            The first few lines of the letter only served as grim confirmation of the news he had already received (though it had probably been quite a surprise for Severus). He sighed slightly, thinking of the bleakness of the situation; however, as his eyes skimmed over the last of what his faithful spy had reported, he had an epiphany and the gloomy aura dissipated almost immediately, replaced with a flash of realization. Drawing in a sharp breath, he thought back to the newspaper articles sprawled open on his desk, the information that he had been gathering and receiving for the past few months, the numerous letters he had received, the note from Ollivander—he thought, and suddenly, everything came together, everything made sense... 

            Why had he not seen it before?

*

            _"Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you... This year we know that there's someone outside Hogwarts who'd like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!"_—_Sirius Black, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, _Scholastic Edition, pg. 371_


End file.
